


Bright Pieces of Tomorrow

by Tamuril2



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 43,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamuril2/pseuds/Tamuril2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As if battling the Chitauri for NY wasn't bad enough, now Loki's innocent. Worse, he's been banished from Asgard to Earth for crimes against Jotunheim. Oh, he's also broken and has no memories! Just what SHIELD needs. AU. Not slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changes?

It’s bright.

_Where did the grey go? Why’s it gone?_

It’s open.

_I need to hide. It’s not safe!_

 

It’s stinging.

_The air’s melting!_

 

It’s…it’s…the word slips away from him into the darkness like so many others. He tries to bring it back, but a flash of light, of memory, stops him.

 

**_Is the little runt missing his home?_ **

 

He curls inward and waits for the blows to remind him of his place. And waits. And waits. And…and…the word leaves. He rocks himself a little, decides it’s nice, reminds him of something soft and accepting.

 

Flowing, golden hair, silk dresses, and encouraging melodies.

 

The heat gets worse and worse and worse. His lungs dry out. His skin burns. He wraps his arms around his stomach. His vision of his knees and the hot, hot sand blurs as tears rise up.

 

Why is he being punished again?

 

Did he do the Bad Thing again?

 

He whimpers. That must be it. He did the Bad Thing. He didn’t mean to. He’s been trying so hard to be good. Isn’t he good now? Doesn’t he listen to the…to the…

 

He shudders.

 

Who does he listen to? He must remember or more bones will break, more sleep will stop, more…and more…He’s so tired his eyes hurt. Who does he obey?

 

Purple and mocking and pain and hunger and tears.

 

Master.

 

He serves Master now. No, he’s always served Master. No…he didn’t. He did. He does. He will. Anything to stop Them from hurting him again. Anything.

 

But sometimes…he wishes…wants…Why won’t the one in his dreams come for him? The one with rain and sun and love. Thunder. He begs for him, but no one comes. Only Them.

 

**_This is your life now, runt._ **

 

“My life. My life,” he whispers through his tears. “Mine.”

 

Something crunches in the sand next to him. A boot. Two boots. Black. He flinches away. Bad, bad, he’s been bad. Master won’t be happy. Isn’t happy. Master will hit him again. And again. And again. Master has sent Them to him.

 

“Sorry, sorry.” His nails scratch at the nice shirt Master gave him. He stops himself. These are Master’s clothes. Master is kind to let him wear things again. But…he’s been bad. Maybe Master will take them away like last time. “Sorry. This one is sorry, Master.”

 

“Get it in him,” a deep rumble ( _Not Master, but still dangerous_ ) says. “Now.”

 

Someone kneels beside him. Pushes his hair back. Something sharp, thin (Needle, his mind supplies suddenly) pricks his neck. He wants to run, to hide, to plead, but he doesn’t.

 

Master is always right.

 

The needle plunges into his neck and releases cold into his veins.

 

_Cold, like a Frost Giant._

 

His body weakens as the cold spreads and he falls to his side. He closes his eyes, blocks out the view of his tormentors for a few more seconds ( _ripping, sneering, bruising)_ and slides into the safety of sleep.


	2. What's in a Name?

He wakes to someone’s face inches from his own, their smelly, wet breath filling his nose. He flinches back, but there’s no wall behind him, only air. _No, no, no. Not again._

 

**_The face above him disappears in a flash of color and then there’s only silence and screeching and flashing lights and darkness and…and…_ **

**_…Hello, little runt._ **

**_…Take it away._ **

**_…You will soon learn, runt._ **

**_…I said kneel!_ **

 

His bare arm is grabbed and yanked hard. He flies forward and hears them grunt as he hits into their chest. His nose crunches into something hard, pain flares, and the grip on his arm squeezes. His minds white out in panic.

 

He’s hit one of Them! He’s resisted. He’s not allowed to do that. He…he…he’s done a Bad Thing. Bad, bad, bad. Master will hurt him now. Hit him. Beat him. Take food away. Master will put him in There.

 

_I didn’t mean to!_

 

“S-sor-ry…This one didn’t…p-pleas-se…this one…” he whispers, trembling. They tug on his arm, shouting unknown words at him, and he screams. “Sorry!”

 

He presses into as tight a ball as he can, hoping…No! He’s not allowed to do that. It’s…it’s…he struggles for the right word, scared what might happen if he doesn’t.

 

**_I asked you a question, runt! Answer it!_ **

****

It’s…Yes! He finds it. It’s a Bad Thing. Bad, bad, bad. Master said, bad. He lays flat on the lumpy table, warm tears falling down his cheeks and into his ears. The…man?...beside him glares at something he can’t see, shaking his arm. Someone else roars and he ignores his instincts to get away ( _Run, run, run!_ ). He’s not allowed to go. They said so. They speak for the Master. They’re always right.

 

_But it wasn’t always that way._

He jolts at the bad thought and stuffs it into a small hole. If Master finds out he still thinks these things he’ll....it won’t…It’s then that he notices that the hand around his arm is gone and that there’s silence everywhere. He looks around and finds himself alone in a white, white room, lying on a…bed?

 

Why’s he on a bed?

 

He’s never been allowed on a bed before. It’s not right. It’s against the Rules. It’s…really, really nice. He burrows deeper into it, despite the pain that causes. Maybe he did something right and Master is pleased with him. He thinks hard, but can’t remember doing anything good. But Master is always right, so he must have done something.

 

He sniffs the air and smells something wet. Water. His eyes jerk to the small table by him. On its edge, close to him, is a tall glass of water. His throat squeezes and a whine escapes him. He wants it so badly, but Master hasn’t said he could, so he doesn’t’ touch it. He knows better.

 

The door to his room opens and a female walks in, red hair and black clothes, and he stiffens. She looks nice and soft, but he’s been around Them too much to be fooled. She’s dangerous. He watches cautiously as she glides closer to his bed. Her eyes flick over to the untouched water glass and his body relaxes.

 

He did a Good Thing.

 

The female pulls a chair over and sits in to, elbows in her knees. “I hear Doctor Morgan scared you a little.”

 

He blinks. He doesn’t know a ‘Doctor Morgan’….does he?

 

She smiles and it’s fake. “Why don’t you take a drink of water, huh?”

 

He shakes his head. He won’t fall for that trick again. He’s learned.

 

She frowns a little. “Can you tell me why not?”

 

He clutches the blanket in his fists and starts to breathe fast.

 

She stops frowning and leans back a bit. “Hey, it’s okay. Calm down. I’m not mad. Can you tell me? Is that okay?”

 

She’s new, but she’s one of Them, so he nods. He takes a small breath, braces himself, and says: “Haven’t done anything yet.”

 

She blinks. Tilts her head. And then nods. “Okay.”

 

She moves the glass to the other side of the small table and his heart…does something funny. Flappity. Hurty. The female folds her arms across her chest. “I’ll make you a deal. You answer a question, I’ll give you this water. Is that in conflict with the rules?”

 

He shakes his head. This makes sense now. She’s a new test for him. He licks his lips and tastes blood. If he does the right things Master will be happy with him. Master will not let Them hurt him today.

 

The female nods. “Right. My names Natasha. What’s yours?”

 

Natasha. He puts the name into his bucket of Important. They never tell him anything if it’s not…not…he forgets the words, but puts her name into the bucket anyway. He rubs the blanket between his fingers. “Runt.”

 

She stiffens. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

 

He cringes. Maybe he didn’t say the right word again. He does that sometimes. Master hates it. He searches him mind and finds the right name. He looks into her eyes. “This one’s name is Runt.”

 

She unfolds her arms. “I thought it was Loki.”

 

He smiles then. So this is the test. He was confused, but now he knows the right answers. “Loki is dead.”

 

“Ah,” she says. Her face turns sad and she looks like she’s going to say something, but then she pushes the glass towards him. “Here. You did well.”

 

He sages in relief. He’s never done so well before. He always gets a question wrong. But not today. Master will be happy. His hands shake as he grabs the glass and some of the water spills out. The female…Natasha reaches out slowly and helps him keep it steady. She gives him another fake smile. “Drink.”


	3. Uncertain Emotions

She sits in the ruins of the command center for the hovercarrier, waiting for Fury to arrive so she can debrief them all on her interrogation of Loki. Clint’s next to her, taunt as a bowstring and just as talkative. The others on the team are scattered around the room, trying their utmost to stay out of the repair crews way.

“This is totally not fair, you know. Why do we have’ta look after Reindeers?” Stark whines like a child. “He’s not _our_ family! I think we’d know if we had a homicidal, nutty brother, you know?”

Natasha leans back in her chair and silently agrees, about the underhandedness of Loki being dumped into their laps, not the brother part – that’s all Stark. Loki is Asgard’s mess, yet Odin, All-Father and ruler of the Nine Realms, didn’t hesitate a second to decree that his adoptive son be house on Earth.

0/0/0/0/0

**_“For crimes against Asgard, you are stripped of your rank.”_ **

**_A jolt of golden magic flows out from Odin’s staff and Loki’s armor vanishes into thin air, leaving behind a skeletal man with barely any clothing, but too many wounds. Natasha spends a brief second wondering where they all came from, but then shoves the problem aside for later. She focuses on the relieving fact that the magic blocking bracelets are still attached to Loki’s wrists._ **

**_Loki snarls from his position on his knees. “You think I care, son of Borr, about your family? You’re doing me a favor by freeing me from your tedious grasp. You shall rue the day you lifted the shadows from my eyes and let me see the truth.”_ **

**_Odin ignores the rant and thumps his staff against the ground again. “For crimes against the planet Jötunheim, you are cast out of Asgard, forever banished to Midgard until such time as you are fit to walk in Our presence again.”_ **

**_“Father, please –” Thor starts to say at the same time Fury steps forward and says “Now, wait a minute – ”_ **

**_Odin cuts them off with a snarl. “Know your place, boy!”_ **

**_Natasha’s not sure if he’s talking to Thor or Fury; both are younger than the Asgardian. Still, Fury gives it one more try._ **

**_“Loki isn’t –”_ **

**_“Loki,” Odin hisses as he whirls on Fury and leans down into his face, “is mine to deal with as I see fit. He will stay on this wretched planet until I deem him fit to do otherwise.”_ **

**_“You can’t just –”_ **

**_“Ah, but I can and do, Nickolas Fury.” Odin turns back to the glowering Loki. “But to show Our mercy, We shall not leave you enthralled, Laufeyson.”_ **

**_“Wait, what does that mean?”_ **

**_Banner doesn’t get any further than that before Odin points his staff at Loki. The restrained man stiffens and then suddenly clutches his head, screaming as he curls inward. Odin doesn’t stop. Loki’s head jerks up and a sickly purple ooze is somehow pulled from his mouth, choking off his screams. The purple thing stretches on and on until it abruptly wrenches out of Loki’s mouth and into a hovering ball before Odin. Loki coughs and vomits onto the sand in front of him._ **

**_Odin nods once, pulls Thor by the arm, and vanishes in a boom of white light._ **

**_Natasha stares up at the clear sky, her heart pounding against her ribcage._ ** _What just happened?_

**_A whimper catches her attention and her eyes go swiftly to Loki. He’s nothing like he was a second ago. Coiled into as tight a ball as he can physically go, the man rocks himself, keening softly._ **

**_“Oh, heck no!” Stark says, throwing his hands in the air. “This did not just happen!”_ **

0/0/0/0/0/0

It irritates Natasha and upsets the balance of her world.

She looks at Loki and sees Clint.

Sees the archer flash her that trademark, cheeky grin and then sees him taken and used against his will like a literal puppet. Forced to kill his fellow SHIELD agents as Loki pulls the invisible strings attached to his mind; compelled by blue magic to tell all his secrets. Recalls how he wakes every few minutes now, gasping, from a nightmare where he’s helped Loki conquer the world and not cared, simply because he can’t anymore. Watches as the man who saved her from a living hell pushes himself to the brink of collapse as he practices hour after hour in the archery range.

She looks at Loki and sees Phil lying on a bed in a corner of the med center, white bandages wrapped tight around the wound inches from his heart. Her mentor had nearly died several times. It makes her ache somewhere deep inside to see the normally strong agent lying so lifeless. Makes all of this seem so much more real.

And yet…she looks at Loki and sees the victims of war.

Sees how the Jotun cowers from everyone and everything around him as if it might hurt him at any second; how he tenses for blows that never come whenever anyone gets too close or looks at him for too long. Remembers how he can’t even think about drinking a simple glass of water because, like some animal, he hasn’t performed a trick yet. Thinks about how he doesn’t even know to call himself ‘Loki’ anymore and doesn’t even know that it’s wrong to be happy about that.

She looks at Loki and wants to hit something or someone, either will do right now. But, Natasha’s a professional. She knows when to let her emotions out and when to rein them back in. Too many people are letting their feelings cloud their judgement. They refuse to go into this with a clear head and because of that Fury sent her in.

**_“Find out if he’s faking or not, Romanoff.”_ **

And she has.

“If you’re all done bickering, I’d like for Agent Romanoff to report,” Fury says as he strides into the room. He comes to a military stance; hands behind his back, feet apart.

Stark rolls his eyes. “Not our fault you’re late to the party.”

“I will have Coulson taze you.” Both a threat and a guarantee that Coulson will be well enough to do so later on.

“Please, he loves me,” Stark says with a wave of his hand. Banner snorts and Stark shoots him a mock glare. “What? He does. Said so himself.”

“I’m pretty sure he also called you Audrey too.”

“Doesn’t count.”

Banner gives a small smile. “Of course not. And the fact that he was a bit high on morphine also doesn’t play into this either, I suppose.”

“Now you’re getting it!”

Fury turns to her before things can escalate more. “Report, Agent Romanoff?”

“It’s real.”

Clint sucks in a breath beside her and she makes herself not look at the hurt betrayal she knows will be in his eyes. He’s wanted this to be a ruse the entire time. Promoted it at every turn really. Told her to make doubly sure he wasn’t trying to play her again. And Loki’s not. The fear’s too real, too raw for it to be a forgery. Plus, the fact that Odin had left them some interesting gadgets to block Loki’s magic also helps cement the fact that Loki can’t fake his wounds or emaciated body.

“You sure?” Fury asks. He’s not inquiring because he doubts her, but to let the others know she’s done her job right. People often need this double reassurance. She understands that and doesn’t take offense.

“Yes.”

“Well, this sucks!” Stark moans. “What’re we gonna do with him now? I mean, he’s bleeding all over the place.”

Rogers bristles at the carelessly tossed words. “We’re going to do what’s right and consider him as the victim he is.”

“Of course you’d advocate for that, Spangles.” Stark glares. “Probably want to give him a cushy bed with silk sheets and junk. Treat him like some orphaned puppy.”

Rogers raises an eyebrow. “I would think you, of all people, would understand this, Stark.”

Stark pales a bit at the subtle hint towards Afghanistan and then storms out of the room with a parting “Don’t compare me to that psychopath, Rogers!” over his shoulder.

Banner glances at everyone and shrugs. “I’ll go make sure he doesn’t blow something up.” The gamma scientist strolls out of the room with his hands shoved into his pockets. Natasha doesn’t envy him the job he’s heading to. Putting up with an angry Stark is taxing, to say the least. And that doesn’t even cover the rants he’s going to be spewing at Banner.

Rogers scans the rest of them, pausing longer on Clint, and refocuses back on Fury. “We _are_ going to help him, aren’t we, sir?”

He almost sounds pleading, as if he’s scared that the world’s changed so much while he was frozen that they’d be willing to torture a broken man. If it was up to Clint, Natasha’s not sure if that fear would be misplaced. Her fellow agent is biased about Loki and quite vocal about his ideas for the alien’s treatment.

Fury shakes his head. “Right now, I’ll settle for watching him and waiting to see if he bites the hand that feeds him.”

That brings to mind another worrying fact.

“Sir, we might have a problem with that,” Natasha says.

“Agent?”

She forges on. “He’s been trained to refuse food or water unless he’s done something to gain it. He wouldn’t even touch the glass of water until after I’d set down some parameters. I ask a question, he gets the water.”

Something changes momentarily in Fury’s eye, but it’s done too fast for Natasha to label it. “We’ll use it to get information about his boss then.”

“Sir!” Rogers shouts.

“At ease, soldier,” Fury orders. “We won’t press him too hard right away. He’s not cognizant enough to give us good Intel.”

That does nothing to lessen Rogers blatant fear.

Natasha watches on as Fury hardens his gaze. “There going to be a problem, soldier?”

Rogers clenches his fists at his side, but, in the end, is the good soldier he was trained to be. “No, sir.”

“Good.” Fury turns back to her. “You’ve established contact, or as much as we’ve been able to get from him, so you’ll be our go-between.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Right.” Fury marches out of the room, hand on his earpiece. “Hill, I want that report for Engine 3 on my desk asap…do I look like I care about…never mind, I want it within two hours. Understood?”

Clint waits until Rogers has left before he explodes on her. “What was that?”

“My job.”

“You supported him!”

She folds her arms across her chest. “I gave the facts as they stood and you know it, Barton.”

“He’s a murderer and a psychopath.”

“He’s innocent.”

Clint growls. “You honestly believe that? Really? You just want to let him get away with killing all those people, destroying all those homes? Whatever happened to justice?”

“Whatever happened to second chances?”

Clint flinches at that. “This isn’t the same, Nat.”

“It is and you know, or you would if you’d stop long enough to assess the situation with an open mind.”

For a second, he looks like he’s going to hit her, but then he spins around and rushes out of the room. She watches him leave without saying a word. She’ll find him later, when he’s had a chance to cool down, and explain things in more detail. Then she might sneak into the med center and see Phil. Tell him about her mixed feelings and hope he can help her sort them out.

Phil’s good like that.

But for now…she needs to get to monitor screen and read up on the most recent files they have about Loki, Norse mythology, and the damage left on the streets from the battle. She straightens her back and pushes all exhaustion away. She has a job to do and do it she will. The world depends on it.


	4. Loving Mercy

The lazy buzz of bees hums close by and the sun beats hot upon his head. The warm breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers and fresh dirt to him and Thor forces himself to relax against the marble arch beside him. He tries to make the taut muscles of his arms loosen. This is what he’s come here for after all, to ease his mind. He hopes the soft atmosphere of his mother’s private garden will aid him in soothing his temper, for it has become hot with the injustice that has been cast upon his young brother, Loki.

Thor cannot understand his father’s reasoning. Even when he himself attacked and killed the Jötuns for his tarnished coronation, his father did not react so severely. True, the All-Father sent him to Midgard for a few days. Yes, he negated his hold on Mjolnir, but he never denied him the chance to regain those lost treasures.

Why not so for Loki?

His little brother is innocent; the All-Father has proven this much by his very actions. The purple toxin Thanos used to invade and control his brother’s mind is sealed deep in Asgard’s volts. Thor has spoken to Heimdell and heard of the tortures his brother has endured for all the Realms. But then, why has his father forsaken his brother to the whims of the Midgardians? Bad enough that the All-Father has stripped Loki of his family and magic. No, the All-Father compounds the sentence by placing him in the care of the very people Loki’s harmed.

And for what?

Does his father wish to see more harm set upon his brother?

It isn’t that Thor does not trust his new found allies. Far from it. He…merely worries that they will overlook the torment and suffering Loki has endured this past year and focus only on the damages wrought by the Chitauri. So many deaths, so much anger. Thor understands it, the berserker rage that fills a man when the tide of war is upon him. He fears what that unbridled wrath will do to his broken brother.

_But then when has that ever stopped our father?_

Long has Thor argued with his brother against the claims that the All-Father cares not for Loki. He’s blustered and sworn that Loki is misconstruing the past, making large the small. Odin loves Loki. He wishes only for his wellbeing. And yet…Thor slumps, does this not prove his brother is right? Thor cannot see it any other way. He refuses the customary reassurance from his mother.

**_Your father does all things for a reason, my son._ **

How can she defend this?

Thor strikes his fist against the stone, relishing in the bright pain that burns across his knuckles. Better this then the festering agony trapped in his heart.

“Had I known you to be thus far gone I would have sought you out sooner, my son,” his father’s deep voice says from behind him.

Thor straightens, but refuses to acknowledge his father by facing him. He does not trust himself not to attack the man should he gaze upon his self-righteous visage. “You need not have troubled yourself so, All-Father.”

His father steps to his side, but Thor ignores him in favor of inspecting a scraggly bush. Several long minutes pass before his father deigns to speak again. When he does, it is in a low tone filled with mystery. “I would speak with you of Loki, my son.”

Thor bristles and clenches his fists by his side in an attempt to keep them from marring his father’s face. He decidedly does not think about snatching Mjolnir from his belt and using it against his father. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “There is naught to be discussed in that, All-Father.”

“Foolish boy,” his father hisses. “Think you it gave me pleasure to so degrade your brother?”

Thor rounds on his father. “Did it not? Ever has your heart been hardened against Loki. Always have you dismissed his skills in speech and lectured him for using magic. And now a perfect opportunity arises to rid yourself of this blemish and you took it without a second thought. So, do not speak to me of regret, All-Father, for I shall not believe such lies anymore.”

For a moment, Thor thinks his father will hit him, so dark does the anger fill his face. The very air about them tingles with ancient magic and Thor finds it hard to breathe suddenly. But the fury passes like the rolling of thunder and Thor is left breathless.

His father gazes down on him, his eyes expressionless. “What think you would have happened had I allowed Loki to return to Asgard?”

Thor does not even have to think about that. “He would have found aid and healing with Eir and mother. His mind would have been saved.”

His father shakes his head. “You are young yet and, as such, do not understand the way the worlds work.”

Thor splutters, but his father continues before he can get a word out.

“Had I brought Loki back as I so wished to do, the High Court and many of the nobles would have wasted no time in storming the halls, braying for his blood.”

“You see darkness where there is none,” Thor says, and he does not try to hide his disbelief.

“And you see light where it never lived,” his father snaps back. “The High Court feels threatened by Loki. They know when you ascend the throne that he will replace them, make them insignificant. And the nobles always remember the many endeavors your brother made against them and their ploys for higher status and riches. Their embarrassment has embittered them.”

“And the common people?” Thor whispers, his heart seizing within him. _Are they too against my brother?_

How could he have been so blind to this? Only now does he recall those many foul looks and heated snarls tossed at Loki’s back. Thor’s soul cries for the wrong for so long pitted against his brother. How right Loki was to say he did not care about him. With one word, Thor could have saved him and brought him under his protection.

But his father’s face lightens instead of further darkening. “Nay, ever has Loki been the champion of the poor and lower class. He looks to their needs and defends them against any who would seek to harm them. They fly his colors from their rooftops.”

And Thor remembers all the emerald green banners and flags waving in the wind whenever he strolls through the lower parts of Asgard. It gladdens his heart and mind that Loki has at least some of Asgard ready to support him.

“And it goes without saying that your mother will always love Loki,” his father adds.

Thor grins. His mother would rather give up her rights to a sword than abandon Loki. Thor frowns. “But then why speak such callous words? Why leave him in the hands of the humans? Surely you could have banished him to Vanaheim, where the elves would have cared for him?”

His father sighs. “The High Court and nobles would have seen it for what it was, a kindness. They might have rebelled and we can ill afford such uprising at this time. Thanos is growing closer and his hand stretches out to Asgard. We need a uniformed front if we are to defeat him.”

“And so you pander to their misguided notions and wounded feelings instead of aiding your son.” Thor declares, folding his arms across his chest.

“I chose to leave Loki with those I knew to be open-minded and fair. The humans of SHIELD will not harm him further. And even if they should, your new allies, the Avengers, will protect him. It goes against their morals and conscience to injure any as hurt as Loki is now.”

“That is why you spoke such harsh words in front fo them.”

“Indeed. They will see him as friendless and their humanity will push them to aid him in his recovery.” Here his father pauses and lets a rare smirk grace his lips. “But the High Court and the nobles will not see it as such. Their regard for Midgard is low and they expect nothing more than barbarism from them.”

A light blossoms in Thor’s mind. “Should they seek out Heimdell, he will only report your words to them and they will be convinced of your ill intentions towards Loki.”

“Yes.”

“But will not this also encourage Loki to think the same of you?” Now that Thor knows his father’s true feelings he would not have Loki so tricked.

The All-Father’s shoulders droop. “I fear that in his present state Loki will not even remember his own name, let alone the words I have spoken.”

“But the Avengers shall and if they tell him…”

“It is a necessary risk, my son.”

“Let me return to tell them, let me aid my brother in his recovery.” Thor pleads.

“I cannot, my son,” his father says. “Your men need you here to stand as a beacon of light. Their hearts falter in fear at the thought of facing so great and powerful an enemy. They need you to be with them, to show them there is naught to worry over. Please, my son, I would not ask this of you if it were not crucial to Asgard’s welfare.”

A part of Thor, the one dedicated to being a brother, screams for him to refuse his father’s wishes. To run to his mother and demand her help him return to Midgard. But the part of him that has trained for centuries to be king over this land tells him that he cannot afford to be so rash. Loki will find friends on Midgard who shall aid him in recalling his former mind. And when that happens, Thor can only hope his little brother understands his absence.

“Of course, father,” he says with a bow. “I am at yours and Asgards service.”

“You have Asgard’s thanks, my son.” His father turns to leave.

“You will tell mother, will you not?” Thor asks.

His father glances back and chuckles. “You make the erroneous assumption that I have ever been able to hide anything from her.”


	5. Earning Your Keep

Natasha is back again. She comes just as si…silen…he tries to remember the word but it won’t come. He settles for ‘quiet’. It sounds right…is it right? He doesn’t know. Maybe Natasha will tell him. He opens his mouth to ask.

No!

He isn’t allowed to ask questions.

Questions are for…for…Master? Yes, for Master and…the Other. Not him. Never him. Questions only make Them hit him. They don’t want to, he makes Them. He is being bad when he asks questions. So, Mater has _Them_ punish him to remind him. He doesn’t ask questions anymore. He is good.

He focuses all his attention on Natasha. She sits in the same chair as last time. He takes note of that for when he is better. They say he can’t get out of bed yet, but when They do, it’ll be his job to antici…anticipa…look for what she likes. If she always sits in that chair then he will get it for her before she comes next time. He’ll make her see he is good now and that she doesn’t have to hurt him.

“You look better today,” Natasha says and smiles. It’s still fake, but he thinks he likes it anyway. He feels it means she is happy with him. He’s done a good thing, so he nods. Her smile does something funny, but stays. “I have some more questions for you.”

She sets a small bowl with a lid on the table beside him. It’s blue and white.

“Answer well and you get it,” she says.

He nods. It’s another test. Maybe he’ll do well in it like he did the last one. He hopes so.

“Who is Master?” Natasha asks.

He can’t help it, he stiffens.

**_You are nothing, Runt. The very air you breathe is a gift from me. You’re not worthy of anything, but I am kind and thus I let you live. Remember that._ **

Natasha leans in. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you. Just curious. You don’t have to answer.”

But he does and she knows that. He knows that. Master knows that. He blinks. Master has sent her. Master wants him to be good. “Master is kind.”

But somewhere he remembers someone telling him **_A leader does not use blows to rule over people. That leads only to fear, my son, not love._**

Natasha’s eyes get angry and he cringes. He’s done a bad thing. But why? What did he do? He said a good thing…didn’t he? But Natasha’s mad and he did that, so he must’ve said a bad thing. He tries to think what word was bad, but can’t find it. That happens sometimes. Maybe she can _hear_ his thoughts like Master.

“Sorry,” he whispers. Tears well up and he tries to hide them.

**_Is the little Runt sad? Is he sorry?_ **

Natasha sees them anyway and her anger leaves. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you.”

She’s not? But there’s no one else in the room.

Natasha pushes the bowl closer to him. “You answered well, Loki. Just a few more.”

Loki? He frowns. Why does she call him that? Loki is dead. Master said so. They say so. But Natasha is calling him that. Something whines and he realizes that it’s him and that he’s pulling at his hair. Natasha grabs his wrists and tugs them gently down.

“Don’t,” she says.

“Sorry…”

She lets go of his wrists and sits back. “So, Master is kind?”

“Yes.”

“Is he powerful?”

**_The universe will bend to my will!_ **

“Master rules.”

“I see. And does he rule the Chitauri?”

He stops himself in time. Natasha is Chitauri…he thinks so…She looks different, but she has to be Chitauri. Master only lets them see him. And they are strong. They always say that. They say they are…are…not slaves? He’s not sure what that means, but they say it all the time to him.

**_We are different from you, Runt. We are not slaves._ **

“Loki, does Master rule the Chitauri?”

He grabs his blanket in both hands. This has to be the right answer. “The Chitauri are not slaves.”

Natasha blinks and smiles. “I understand. Good job, Loki.”

He can breathe again. He’s done a good job. Good job. Good job, Loki. But Loki’s dead. Master says so. But Natasha calls him Loki. But Loki’s dead. Dead, dead, dead. Master says so.

He hits his leg with his fist. He’s done a bad thing and must be punished. Bad thing. He hits his leg as hard as he can. Bad, bad, bad. Loki is dead. Master says so. Master is always right. Chitauri are not slaves. Master is strong. Loki is dead.

He tries to hit his leg again but something is holding his wrist, stopping him. He glances down and sees it’s Natasha. He looks at her. Why did she stop him? He’s done a bad thing.

She frowns. “Stop.”

He does. Master sent her and so he does what she says. Master says to always listen to everyone he sends.

“Why did you hit yourself?” she asks as she lets go of his wrist again.

“Loki is dead.”

Her eyes look past him and then harden. “I see. I apologize. I forgot.”

He nods. He does that too sometimes. He hopes Master doesn’t hit her too hard. He likes her. “This one’s fault. Tell Master.”

She huffs, but smiles again. “Thank you.”

Something warm crawls into his chest. He’s done a good thing. She thanked him. Master will be happy with him now, even though he did a bad thing too.

Natasha pushes the bowl to him and takes the lid off. He smells the hot liquid inside. It’s…broth? Yes, broth. The man with curly hair and the angry smell…Bruce. Bruce said so. Natasha waves at the bowl. “Eat.”

He takes it and cradles it close. He’s done a good thing, so now he gets more broth. He’s glad. He likes broth. He doesn’t care that it’s small and burns his tongue sometimes and makes his stomach hurt. It tastes…tastes…It tastes! And they always give him more each time. Master will be happy. He’s being good.

He looks up, but Natasha is already gone. He sips the broth. She’ll be back and maybe she’ll bring more broth with her.

He likes broth.


	6. Secure Location

It isn’t fair, Tony grouses as he sips his third bourbon and sinks lower into the couch. The liquor burns down his throat in a good way and he closes his eyes with a sigh. Why did Fury have to nominate _him_ to babysit the alien wacko? And why at Stark Towers? He has tons of other houses, much more secret that this one. And SHIELD’s got to have a few secrety bases themselves. Surely they can look after Loki.

Maybe it’s payback for Tony calling Fury a pirate. Or maybe Coulson’s bored and wants some quality TV. Tony frowns. Can SHIELD still hack into his systems? He’ll have to check that. Soon. Not that he doesn’t appreciate all that SHIELD’s done for them, but they’re still a secret government agency and that alone makes them iffy in Tony’s books. They spy on people for a living. Why not their assets too?

Cause that’s all they are to SHIELD. Assets. Numbers on a board. Weapons to be used.

High heels click on the tiled floor and Tony peers over the back of the couch at the upside-down face of his fiancé. Pepper rests a hand on her hip and tilts her head to the side, her lips curling down in disapproval – though from his view it looks like a distorted version of a smile. He grins.

“Hey.”

“It’s not even noon, Tony,” she says. States really, but doesn’t sound as if she’s really all that surprised. More, disappointed.

Something twinges in Tony and he grimaces. “Sorry.”

“I know.” She kicks off her stilettos and slides around the couch to sit on its arm. He follows her with his eyes, head still leaning back against the couch. She leans in and whisks the glass of bourbon away with deft fingers. “Why?”

“I hate life.”

“Already known and recorded.” She sniffs at the bourbon and wrinkles her nose. “Do better or I will make you go to that board meeting tomorrow.”

He pales at the thought. An hour or two listening to longwinded, prissy people complain about the hundred dollars they won’t be getting in their million dollar checks. It makes him sick. They don’t care about others. They care about numereo uno. He swallows. They remind him of what he used to be, of what he could always fall back into being. He slumps.

“You’d really make me do that?”

She places the glass on the table in front of them and sighs. “No, but I’d like to still think it’s a good threat.”  

“It is,” he hurries to assure her.

She sends him a sad smile, a knowing one. “I know.”

He twiddles his thumbs and thinks up a few hundred different Quantum Mechanics theories. “Fury asked me to ask you if we could babysit Loki.”

Her eyebrows rise and she slides down the couch arm and scoots close to him. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” He slings an arm around her and pulls her closer. “It sucks.”

“Why us?”

He likes that she says ‘us’. Makes them official. Tony and Pepper. Pepper and Tony. Together against the world. Pepperony. Mmm. Pizza sounds really good right about now. With some red wine and chocolate. Low lights. Pepper next to him. An old, classic movie in the background.

“Tony?”

“Hmmm?” He asks as he goes through the virtual list of pizza places still open after the Chitauri attack. Not a lot, but not nothing either.

“Why did Fury ask that we look after Loki?”

Persistent. That’s one of the things Tony loves about Pepper. Once she wants something she doesn’t stop til she’s got it. Whether it be a business deal or her fiancé to wake up and smell the roses and propose already. He kisses her forehead. “I love you.”

She flicks his nose. “I love you too, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

He sighs. “Supposedly, there are quite a few agents that are still miffed about the attack and willing to take it out on Loki.”

“I thought he was innocent.”

“Yep.”

“ _Tony_.” She stresses his name and frowns.

“Hey, he threw me out a window. It hurt. I’ve got bruises and cuts from it. I’ve the right to hold a grudge.”

“Tony.” More a sigh now than warning.

“Pep, please.”

“Fine. Later.” She rubs his chest. “So, there’ve been attacks on Loki by SHIELD agents? Were they the ones guarding him?”

“No.” Thank goodness. Even Tony isn’t hardhearted enough to want that to happen. “Natasha had them before they got even thirty feet to Loki’s room, but Fury’s pants are in a twist and he wants Loki in a more secure site.”

“And he thinks here is the best spot?”

“Evidently, I’m the poster child for secure locations.” He preens. “Kind of nice to have Nicky admit that at last, not going to lie.”

Pepper breathes a laugh. “A bit.”

“So?”

“I think you should do it.” He tries to pull his arm back, hurt she’d agreed so easily, but she grabs hold of his wrist and levels The Look at him. “Tony.”

“Pep, he’s loco. I don’t want him five miles from you, let alone two floors. It’s all great to protect him from the people _outside_ , but who’s going to protect _us_ on the _inside_??”

“The Avengers?” Her fingers massage his hand. “You did say you’d invited them and that most said yes. We wouldn’t be defenseless.”

“He’s a powerful alien, Pep!”

“Who, and I quote you, doesn’t know his backend from his front because he’s been screwed over so badly. Tony, he won’t even eat without being told to. It’s amazing that Bruce got him to go to the restroom by his own initiative.”

Tony grimaces. Yeah, that hadn’t been a fun week. Lots of tears, pleas, and crying all around – on Loki’s part, not his! He sighs. “Fine, but I’m not going to like him.”

She lets go of his hand and cups his cheek in her hand. “Tony, I would never ask that of you. He attacked you. Tried to kill you. That’s going to take time to heal.”

He snorts. “You my therapist now?”

She punches his arm. “No, I’m your smart fiancé.”

He mock shivers. “Even worse.”

“Tony, please. Say yes. It’s the right thing to do.”

He gazes down at her, overwhelmed by the love her sees in her eyes. Love that he knows he’ll never, ever, deserve, but that he also knows he will forever try and earn. He leans in and kisses her nose lightly. “All right.”

She snuggles against his chest. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me now, Miss Potts.”

She chuckles into his chest. “Perish the thought.”

////////

He calls Fury up that night over the holopad. Doesn’t want to give himself a chance to really think this over. Fury picks up after the first ring, face as blank as an unused flash drive.

“Stark?”

“Fine, he can stay here, but only under my rules. I’m not endangering Pepper like that.”

Silence and then: “What rules?”

“Visual and heat monitoring. He stays in that room unless Natasha, Steve, or Bruce are with him. They’re the only ones that have a chance at stopping him if he goes awol. I get the right to vaporize him if he goes after Pep in any way. Oh, and those magicky bracelets have to stay on at all times.”

Fury’s eyes narrows, but he nods. “Agreed. We’ll have him prepped and ready for relocation by tomorrow.”

Well, that was easy. Tony never likes that. “What’s up? You agreed to all that way too nicely.”

Fury raises an eyebrow.

Tony growls. “Look, I’m letting a certified psychopath in the same building as my fiancé, you owe me the truth. What’s changed?”

“HYRDA’s reappeared.”

“HYRDA? I thought Cap got rid of them all when he killed the Red Skull.”

“Seems not.” Fury laces his fingers together. “And my sources tell me that they very interested in Loki.”

“Great. Just great, Fury. Not only do I have to babysit the alien, but I also have to watch out for HYRDA too. Any more fun facts you wanna throw at me? Doom feeling the need to visit? Venom? Maybe even Magneto?”

“Stark,” Fury grounds out. “Enough.”

“No, no, I really wanna know. Any tidbits you wanna share with the class? Any more guests I need to know about?”

“Coulson made a passing remark that he wouldn’t mind staying there to help out.”

“Oh…” Tony backtracks. “Oh.”

“That fly with you, Stark or are there no rooms at the inn.”

“Shut it, Fury, you _know_ Coulson’s welcome any time.” Tony pauses. “He really that good? Docs gave him the green light?”

“Yesterday.”

“Nice.” Tony leans back. “Tell him he’s welcome. No, better yet, I’ll tell him. You stay out of it. You say anything and he’ll end up with homework or something.”

“He’ll arrive in the same car as Loki then.”

“Yeah. Good. Whatever. Look, I gotta go. System upgrades to make, fiancé to woo, you know. Talk to ya later?”

“Good night, Stark.”

He thinks Fury might be laughing at him, but it’s kind of hard to tell. Man has _the best_ poker face this side of Miami. He scowls and shuts down the call. “Jerk.”

“So, Coulson too now?”

Tony turns to Pepper. “That okay? I can always call back and tell him it’s a no go.”

“It’s fine.” She smirks. “I could use the backup with all these children I’m going to be looking after, present party included.”

“Pepper!!”

“I’m thinking a Super Nanny marathon might be in order.”

“Pep, don’t give him any ideas!”

“Me? Who said anything about me giving him ideas?” She grins. “No, no, I’m going to be asking for advice on this one. He’s had years of training, after all.”

Tony stumbles after her. “Pep, you’re joking right. Pep, come on. Don’t go asking Evil Agent. He hates me and you know it. He’ll try and make you take over the company.”

“I already run the company, Tony.”

“Not the same thing!”

“Do you think he has an extra tazer?”

“Peeepperrrr!”


	7. Moving Day

Bruce stuffs the last of his books into his duffle bag, rearranging his sparse collection of property to accommodate the thick tome. He glances over at the man standing just barely in his SHIELD assigned room. “So am I breaking the news to him or is Miss Romanoff?”

Agent Coulson sends him a bland look that translates to nothing and hands him. “Romanoff. We thought it better, seeing as she was the first, positive authority figure to him.”

Bruce nods in agreement. “Good idea.”

“Not jealous?”

Bruce pauses at that. Most of the time, Agent Coulson is a blank slate that could easily pass for a wall, he’s that good at being bland, but then there are those rare times, like now, where he lets loose some bit of sarcasm that makes Bruce reevaluate everything he thinks about the man. It’s probably a ploy to make sure he’s off balance. Never really sure what angle Agent Coulson is aiming for. Bruce couldn’t even tell if he feared the Hulk, his act was so good.

He sneaks another glance over at Agent Coulson. “No. Makes sense. I’m just the doctor. I make him do things he’d probably rather not. She gives him food and compliments. Good cop, bad cop style.”

Agent Coulson hands him his toothbrush. “He’s not afraid of you, anymore than he is of her. Now, if it was Doctor Morgan we were discussing…well, then I’d agree with you.”

Hulk growls at the name and Bruce echoes it. “That man should be fired.”

“Already has been.”

“And you’re not afraid he’ll go to the press? Go to HYDRA?”

Agent Coulson doesn’t even blink at the knowledge that Bruce knows about HYRDA. But the man does give a creepy half smile. “He won’t be talking.”

And that…does nothing to assure Bruce. Rather it makes him nervous. Just what did SHIELD do to make their former doctor silent? Bruce’s rather impressive imagination comes up with a few gruesome scenarios involving water, hitting, and darkness basements in Antarctica. He suppresses a shiver. It doesn’t take much to imagine that he’ll end up in one of those situations one day. He’s the Hulk after all. SHIELD is just waiting for him to outlive his usefulness. Then it’ll be off to the labs for him.

Bruce zips his bag shut, slings it over his shoulder, and pretends that Agent Coulson’s news makes him happy. “Good to know. Loki doesn’t need that extra worry right now.”

And the alien doesn’t. The poor man has enough trouble.

**_“Hi, there,” Bruce says, as he puts some hot broth the table. “My name’s Bruce.”_ **

**_Loki blinks at him and looks like he’d really, really love to curl into himself. But that won’t happen. Miss Romanoff said enough for Bruce to know that Loki’s been trained not to defend himself. It makes Bruce angry, that someone would degrade a man so that he can’t even think for himself. Doctor Morgan glances over from his station and snorts. Bruce ignores him for now._ **

**_“I’m a friend of Natasha,” he says. He needs to establish a connection with Loki and Miss Romanoff seems like the best bet. Loki’s already showed many signs of trusting her the most. Aligning himself with her will only help him with Loki._ **

**_Loki’s face smooths a little. “Natasha.”_ **

**_“Yes.” Bruce steps a bit closer, about to explain the whole broth thing, but a rancid smell assails his nose. He stops and sniffs the air. Ugh! He frowns._ ** _What is that?_

**_He leans closer to Loki and realizes the smell is coming off of him. He takes a big whiff and gages. Urine. Loki’s wet himself. It doesn’t surprise him, sadly, that Loki isn’t bothered by the acidy liquid, but what does surprise Bruce is that no one has taken care of it yet. By the smell alone Bruce can tell it’s been a while since Loki did it._ **

_Why? **Bruce looks over at Doctor Morgan. “Why’s he smell like he wet himself?”**_

**_The reaction this garners is abrupt and shocking. Doctor Morgan leaps to his feet with a curse. “Not again.”_ **

**_Loki cringes at the annoyed groan._ **

**_Bruce himself frowns. “Doctor Morgan…?”_ **

**_The other doctor lifts Loki’s blanket up and peeks under. He sighs and gently pulls Loki’s blankets off. Loki’s hospital pants are wet. The smell is ten times worse now that the blanket isn’t covering it at all. The bedding surrounding Loki’s lower half is soaked as well. Doctor Morgan looks exhausted. “I told him to use the bathroom next time.”_ **

**_“What?”_ **

**_“This makes the fourth time he’s done this.” Doctor Morgan sighs again. “You’d think the man would get a clue. How hard is it to go six feet?”_ **

**_Bruce sweeps his eyes over the mess and the shivering form of Loki. The man’s silently crying now. “You told him?”_ **

**_“Of course I did.”_ **

**_“What did you tell him?”_ **

**_Doctor Morgan jerks back. “I’m sorry?”_ **

**_“What were the exact words you used to tell Loki to use the bathroom?”_ **

**_“Ummm…” Doctor Morgan’s eyes go vacant as he searches his memories. After a second they clear. “I told him to just use the bathroom. That it was inconvenient to for us to have to change the bedding every time he needed to pee.”_ **

**_“Did you show him the bathroom?”_ **

**_“Yes?”_ **

**_“Actually take him there?”_ **

**_“No…should I have?”_ **

**_Bruce doesn’t like Doctor Morgan, but the man isn’t cruel. Just naive. The SHIELD doctor is new and probably never had a situation outside of a textbook case. This is a whole new area for the man. Bruce keeps that in mind, even if this all seems so obvious to him. He pinches the ridge of his nose and calmly tells Hulk to back off. “Yes. Yes, you should have visually shown him.”_ **

**_“But –”_ **

**_“Doctor,” Bruce interrupts. “Let’s say you have a two year old son and you’re trying to potty train him. Do you just point to the bathroom and say “use it”? No, of course you don’t. Why? Because your son has never seen a toilet, let alone a bathroom before. You have to show him the toilet and how to use it, probably multiple times, before he understands.”_ **

**_“But –”_ **

**_“You got the file on Loki. You know what Miss Romanoff has diagnosed.” Bruce straightens and points to the door. “Get out.”_ **

**_“What? But I didn’t mean –”_ **

**_“Doctor Morgan, please leave the room. I will handle this.” Bruce allows just a teeny bit of Hulk’s anger to show. It’s mean, but it’ll also get results fast._ **

**_Doctor Morgan pales and flees the room. Hulk snorts in amusement. Bruce reigns him in, thanking him for the assistance, and walks over to the door, peering out into the hallway. He spies an agent a few feet away. “Can you please go get Miss Romanoff for me?”_ **

**_The agent nods and Bruce goes back inside the room. He leaves the door open. No need for Loki to think he’s being locked in for some kind of punishment. Not that Loki would try to escape if Bruce did decide to hit him. But it’s the thought that counts, right?_ **

**_Bruce strides over to Loki’s bedside. The poor man is shaking something fierce and a couple of whines are getting out. Loki’s terrified. He knows he did wrong, but he doesn’t know why or how to fix it. Bruce sits down in the chair beside the bed and tries to appear as unintimidating as possible. “Lok –”_ **

**_He trails off. Miss Romanoff had said that Loki’s been trained to hate his name. That it’s somehow a bad thing to acknowledge it. But then what does Bruce call him? He’s not doing ‘runt’. He can’t just call him ‘you’. Bruce rifles through all the books and movies he’s ever known and finally comes up with an alternative. He hopes Miss Romanoff agrees, because he’s never really been in this territory before, so it’s all guesswork._ **

**_“Is it all right if I give you a name?” Bruce asks Loki. “I don’t much like Runt.”_ **

**_Loki stares at him. And stares. And keeps staring. “Yes.”_ **

**_Well, that was…awkward. Bruce forges on. “Right. Okay. How’s Loptr sound?”_ **

**_He really hopes this Master guy hadn’t forbidden all of Loki’s pseudo names. That’d make it ten times harder. But Loki only sniffles and nods. Bruce smiles. “Good. I’m glad.”_ **

**_Loki frowns at that, but doesn’t say anything._ **

**_Bruce fiddles with the hem of his shirt and hopes Miss Romanoff hurries up. His prayers are answered as the woman herself strides through the open doorway._ **

**_“Banner?” she says, glancing once at the wet mess around and under Loki._ **

**_“Loptr seems to have had an accident.” Bruce pushes off his knees and stands. “Doctor Morgan…was unprepared for this and didn’t explain the rules quite right. I was hoping you might rectify it?”_ **

**_His words feel stiff, but then Bruce’s never sure just how to approach Miss Romanoff. She manipulative. Sneaky. Two faced. She’s also met the Hulk in one of the worst ways possible and thus fears him. Bruce has no idea how to fix that. Or if he can._ **

**_Miss Romanoff nods briskly. “I understand.”_ **

**_“I think I should stay and help,” he ventures to say. She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow and he hurries to explain. “You can’t be here twenty-four, seven.”_ **

**_And that’s all he needs to say. Her lips quirk into a smirk. “Good idea.”_ **

**_She glides over and looks down at Loki. “Hey…Loptr. Looks like you had an accident.”_ **

**_Loki cringes and starts crying again. “Sorry…sorry…”_ **

**_Miss Romanoff shakes her head. “No, it’s my fault. I didn’t explain things well enough.”_ **

**_If possible, Loki looks even more terrified. He shuffles to the edge of the bed. “My fault.”_ **

**_Miss Romanoff’s eyes turn sad for a brief moment before she hardens herself. “No. Not your fault at all. Mine.”_ **

**_Loki whines and Bruce suddenly realizes that he’s worried about what his Master will do to her for this perceived mistake. Nothing good, he knows that. But Miss Romanoff takes it all in stride. “Loptr, I can handle it. Right now what we need to do is make sure this doesn’t happen again. Okay?”_ **

**_Loki’s still crying, but he nods anyway. “Okay.”_ **

**_Miss Romanoff smiles, but even Bruce can tell it’s a bit forced. She doesn’t like being placed in this role any more than he does. She rallies herself well though. “Good. Now, can you get up?”_ **

**_Loki struggles to get off the bed, but Miss Romanoff places a hand on his shoulder and he freezes instantly. The alien trembles and looks at her in fear. “Bad thing?”_ **

**_She leans down so that they’re both at equal heights. “Loptr, I need you to listen, okay?”_ **

**_He licks his lips and whispers, “Okay.”_ **

**_“Good.” She gives him another forced smile. “Now, I know you’re hurt, so you need to take this slowly. I don’t want you making your wounds worse. Okay?”_ **

**_Loki frowns – probably confused as to why they’d even care about him that much – but nods again. Miss Romanoff takes him arm and helps him get onto his feet. Loki wobbles a little at first, but stays upright. Miss Romanoff pats him on the shoulder. “Good job.”_ **

**_It’s sad how just those two words make Loki preen and stop crying. Bruce swallows and tells Hulk that no, coming out would not help the situation. Loki needs quiet and calm, two things Hulk isn’t. Hulk grumbles, but doesn’t force the subject, trusting in Bruce for right now. Bruce thanks him for that and Hulk just snorts._ **

**_Miss Romanoff gently guides Loki to the small restroom in the corner of the room. “Now, this is called a restroom or bathroom. If you ever need to relieve yourself…Loptr, do you know what that means? To relieve yourself?”_ **

**_It never occurred to Bruce that Loki might not know that. It makes sense though. It also makes him and Hulk angrier._ **

**_Loki bits his lower lip and nods._ **

**_“Good,” Miss Romanoff says. “Now, if you ever need to relieve yourself you are to use this room. See that big bowl like thing over there? The one all the way in the back? That’s called a toilet. You sit on it and relieve yourself. Okay?”_ **

**_Loki takes a hesitant step forward and peeks into the toilet. Miss Romanoff leads him closer._ **

**_“Once you’re done you just push on this little nob.” She pushes on the flusher and the water roars down the pipe. Loki finches at the abrupt sound, but Miss Romanoff just pats his shoulder. “It’s okay. That’s just to make sure that the room doesn’t stink up. It’s just taking the water down a pipe and out to the sewer.”_ **

**_Loki’s breath is still a bit fast, but he doesn’t seem as if he’s going to try and jump out of his skin anymore._ **

**_“Okay, last two things,” Miss Romanoff says. “Once you’re done, you wipes yourself with the toilet paper.” She shows him that and then moves on. “This is a sink and that small bottle over there is filled soap. You just push down on the pump and put a little bit of the soap in your hands, turn on the faucet, and wash your hands. That makes sure you don’t get any germs on you.”_ **

**_Miss Romanoff demonstrates by washing her hands. “Make sense?”_ **

**_Loki agrees quickly._ **

**_“Good. Now tell me what you’re supposed to do if you need to relieve yourself?”_ **

**_Loki takes a breath. “Go to this room, sit down, flush, use toilet paper, and wash hands.”_ **

**_“Make sure you pull your pants down when you’re going and up when you’re done.”_ **

**_“Pants up and down.”_ **

**_“Use the toilet paper before you flush. Otherwise it’ll stink up the room.”_ **

**_Loki nods._ **

**_Miss Romanoff smiles. “Good job, Loptr. Very good. I think that deserves a reward, don’t you, Banner?”_ **

**_“Of course,” Bruce agrees, even though this role makes him sick to his stomach. “How does a bowl of broth sound to you?”_ **

**_“Perfect.”_ **

It took a few more times and mistakes for Loki to get the hang of using the bathroom. Each one was a battle in and of itself. Crying – from Loki – stiff smiles and encouragements – from Miss Romanoff or himself – and apologies – from Loki, again. But they’ve got it down now. Bruce makes a mental note to show Loki all the bathrooms in the tower…well, not all of them, maybe. There’s too many. But he’d be sure to have Miss Romanoff and himself show Loki the one in his room and in the dining area. Oh, and the TV room too. Just in case.

Agent Coulson follows Bruce out into the hallway. “The planes prepped and ready to go. Just waiting on Loki.”

 _And me._ Bruce hikes his bag higher up his shoulder. “Miss Romanoff taking him there?”

“Yes.” Agent Coulson grimaces. “It’s been…interesting.”

“I can imagine,” Bruce says. “New environments are never a good thing with prisoners of war.”

Agent Coulson dips his head in agreement. “Indeed. But he’ll be better off at Stark Towers.”

“Tony said you’d be house there too.”

Agent Coulson gives him a small smile. “Miss Potts asked for my aid in wrangling you all in. Well, mostly Clint and Tony. You, she’s not so worried about.”

Bruce smirks. He can see that. Tony goes to the beat of a different drum. Heck, a different orchestra. But with all of the Avengers in one place, Pepper’s going to need all the help she can get. Bruce too, now that he thinks about it. Having Agent Coulson there to watch over Agent Barton and Miss Romanoff, plus Tony, will be much appreciated. “I’m sure, she’s happy for it.”

“She is,” Agent Coulson says.

And that’s the last thing they both say to each other as they enter into the carrier’s hanger. Bruce just hopes no one will want to do any small talk on the ride over. He’s not that comfortable with these agents yet and Loki’s going to be a jumble of nerves just waiting to explode.

 _I hope Pepper knows what she’s agreeing to,_ Bruce thinks as he steps up the plane’s ramp. ****_  
  
_


	8. And So It Begins

They’d taken him to a new place again. He didn’t know why. The white place had been nice. No whips or hurts or shouts or…or…why hadn’t he seen The Other or Master in so long? They always came. But now They didn’t. Only Natasha or Bruce came. Why? He had been good. Natasha said so and she was Master’s, so she was always right. And Master hadn’t hit her, so she must be good too. They were both good and Master was pleased.

So why hadn’t Master seen him yet?

Why?

It didn’t make sense. None of this did. Why a new room? Why a bed? Why more clothes? Why a new name? Loptr. He liked and hated it. It sounded funny. Not right. Like it should be…else. But Natasha and Bruce called him that and said it was his name. He had to call himself that, not Runt anymore.

Why?

Why, why, why?

He wasn’t allowed to call himself anything. Master said. The Other said. He wasn’t allowed. But Natasha always made him say it, asked if he was using it, so he had to call himself Loptr now. Had to. Must. Will. Do.

He shivered and curled up tighter against the glass window (Bruce called it that), pressing a finger on the cool thing. It felt…not bad. Nice. Good. Not bad. He liked that. Something that didn’t hurt him when he touched it. He frowned. Was that good? Was the window being good? Maybe it was supposed to hurt him and didn’t want to. Maybe it was like Natasha and Bruce. Maybe it liked him.

He smiles.

He likes the window too and makes sure to pat it again.

Nice window. He’ll have to make sure no one got mad at it and hurt it. 

The door whispers open and he catches sight of Natasha moving in. Silent. Deadly. Nice. Fake. He shivers and smiles.

“Hey, Loptr,” Natasha says as she sits down next to him and folds her legs over each other. “You like the room?”

He nods. “Nice.”

“It is.” She looks around at it. “Stark went all out.”

He doesn’t know a Stark (does he?), so he just nods again. She smiles and it’s fake again. He picks at the end of his sleeve. Natasha always smiles. Why? She never means it. The Other and Master smile too, but Natasha’s smile is different. Nice. Not…not…no pain. He likes it, even if it’s fake.

“You been using your name?” she asks.

He freezes. He forgot. Bad. Bad. He forgot. Bad thing. Bad. He loosens his curl, showing her his stomach in case she wants to hit him. “No.”

She frowns. “Why?”

“Forgot,” he whispers, not looking at her and picking more at his sleeve. Her hand comes over and stops him. He trembles, but she only squeezes his arm.

“That’s okay,” she says. “It’ll take some time. Just promise me you’ll try harder. It’s important.”

He bites his lip. Why? Why is Loptr important? But he can’t ask. Asking is bad. Bad, bad, bad. Pain. He swallows and nods. “Promise.”

She lets his arm go. “Good.”

Good. He’s done a good thing. Not bad anymore. He smiles. “Good?”

Her lips almost go down, but then she smiles again. “Very good.”

“Good,” he whispers. He likes being good. Master will be happy with him. And then They won’t have to hurt him.

**_They’re such simple instructions, Runt. Can’t you do even one?_ **

And he has. He is good now. Master will let Natasha give him more broth. He straightens. “Broth?”

She nods. “But you’ll have to leave this room.”

He can’t breathe. Leave? Leave the room? He isn’t allowed to leave. Leave is bad. Maybe Natasha doesn’t know that. Master will be angry with her. He has to let her know so Master will be happy with her. “Bad.”

She frowns. “To leave? Is that bad?”

He nods. “Bad.”

She shakes her head. “No. Not bad. Good.”

Good? But Master said leave was bad. How can it be good now? Why? Why, why, why? He grabs his hair and shakes his head. “Bad.”

Bad, bad, bad. Not good. Bad.

He shakes and cries and pulls his hair. Bad. He must be punished. Pain, pain, pain. He pulls his hair again. Pain. Natasha tries to stop him, but he runs away into the smaller room with the toilet. Bad. He is bad. Leave is bad. He lies down in the funny, white bed and pulls at his hair. Bad. The bed hurt him, but that’s good. He is bad.

Suddenly, Bruce is there. Nice. Calm. Soft. Bruce gently takes his hands and moves them off his hair. “Hey, Loptr. Did Natasha scare you?”

“Bad,” he whispers. “Leave bad.”

“Ah, I see.” Bruce tugs him to sit up and grips his hands. “Leaving the room is bad?”

He nods. “Bad.”

“Okay, then, you don’t have to leave then. You can stay. In here or out there. Okay?”

He nods and shivers. “Okay.”

Bruce leans down and looks at him. “Loptr? Natasha didn’t mean to scare you. She didn’t know about the not leaving. She’ll go ask Master and see if he says yes, first. Okay?”

He doesn’t want Natasha to ask Master. She will be punished. But he can’t say ‘no’ to Them, so he only nods. Maybe Master won’t be too angry at her. He swallows. “This one’s fault. Bad.”

Bruce sucks in a breath. “She’ll ask Master and we’ll see.”

He lets Bruce tug him up and out of the small room. Bruce smiles and it’s real, but funny. “I brought some more broth. Want it?”

He stops. “Broth.”

Bruce nods. “You’ve been good, so I figured you might want some.”

He does. Bruce said he was good, so Master will be happy if he has some broth. Bruce says so. Bruce never lies. Bruce knows the rules. Not like Natasha, who sometimes forgets. He takes the broth from Bruce and smiles.

He is good.

Master will be happy.


	9. Meeting Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will be in May.
> 
> *Bubble Dancing Duty = A term used in Steve's day for dish washing duty.

It’s Jarvis that calls him.

_“Excuse me, sir, but your presence is needed urgently on Level 6.”_

Level 6. Loki’s room. Steve bolts from his chair, the art pad on his lap flapping to the floor, and rushes to the stairs without a backward glance. With the Super Serum, he’s actually faster than an elevator (and boy, was Stark’s son ever mad about that). Plus, he’s only on Level 4. It’ll take a minute tops to get there. He slams the exit door open and storms up the stairs as fast as he can go, almost as fast as when he’d tried to rescue Bucky – he’s that worried.

“What’s the damage, Jarvis?” he asks the computer.

 _“Hulk has emerged and Loki…reacted negatively.”_ Jarvis says, oddly with a somewhat concerned tone. But then, Jarvis always seems to have more emotion than he should and that’s something Steve will just have to focus on later.

Steve snorts though as he passes by Level 5. He pumps his legs to go even faster, ignoring the slight burn (He hasn’t run this hard in a while and his morning jogs aren’t quite like this, more smooth). Of course Loki had reacted badly. He probably had a vague image of Hulk slamming him into the ground. That, or he just saw a huge monster and was panicking like most people did when they first saw Hulk. Granted, Steve didn’t think Hulk was going to smash the alien into the ground again….was he?

“How’s Hulk doing?” he asks, a faint bit of worry emerging. He really didn’t want to deal with an angry, confused Hulk. He hopes Bruce has talked to the Big Guy and convinced him that Loki’s no longer a threat. Or a stress doll.

“ _There doesn’t seem to be an animosity on the Hulk’s part, sir. He was merely curious and now worried.”_

Steve breathes a sigh of relief and flies into the hallway of Level 6. And then his heart stops for a second. He can hear it, the screaming. Loki’s screaming bloody murder. The ‘No, no, please no!’ is reverberating off the walls and it nearly sends Steve into a mini flashback of the war. But he shoves that away, he can’t afford it right now, and shots down the hallway.

This is bad. Really bad.

Steve’s only glad that Jarvis thought to call him and not Tony or Clint – Natasha’s out for the day with Pepper. He skids to a stop at Loki’s door, draw himself up, and throws it open without hesitation.

The sight he gets is both sad and horrifying. Loki’s backed into a corner, knees to his chest, screaming, his hands balled into fists on the floor. Everything about the hunched figure cries out ‘don’t hurt me’. Steve swallows the bile that rises to his mouth and turns to Hulk. The Big Guy is closer to the door and seems unsure, if not a little wounded. His large mouth is turned down and his eyebrows are almost touching. The Big Guy wrinkles his nose and looks to Steve.

“Hulk not hurt.”

Steve forces himself to relax, he has to be the mature one here, the leader, and smiles tightly. “I know, Big Guy, I know. But Loki’s…not feeling great right now. He’s…confused as to who his friends are.”

Hulk slumps and Steve suddenly feels bad for the Big Guy. He didn’t know coming out would be so detrimental to Loki. Oh, Steve doesn’t doubt Bruce said something along those lines, but Hulk probably thought Bruce was exaggerating. Hulk shuffles a few more inches away from Loki – who’s stopped screaming and settled on shivering like there’s a blizzard going on.

“Hulk help.”

Steve reaches over slowly, he doesn’t want to give the Big Guy the wrong idea – and they’re both still new to the ‘friends’ idea – and pats him lightly on the arm. “I know, but how about later. Kay? Let me explain this all to him first.”

“Talk now?”

Steve glances at Loki and makes an impulsive decision. “Yes.”

He’s never been introduced to Loki, and Bruce and Natasha will probably put him on bubble dancing duty* for not clearing it with them, but Loki looks like he really needs some structure right now and Steve’s the only one here to do it (Heaven forbid Tony try it just yet. Loki’s not ready for that powerhouse.). Steve pats Hulk again, flashes him an encouraging smile, and makes his way cautiously over to Loki, making sure all his movements are open and clear to see.

The alien man watches him through his long, dark hair (Bruce needs to give him another bath soon, it’s looking a bit greasy), but doesn’t seem like he’s going to bolt. Not that he would, now that Steve thinks about it. Natasha said he’d had the flight instinct literally beaten out of him. Loki can’t even think about trying to protect himself, let alone escape. Steve swallows again as he moves closer.

“Hey…” he scrambles for the name Bruce gave him, “Loptr. Mind if I sit next to you?”

Loki doesn’t say anything. Steve really doesn’t expect him to, but he knows that giving the option to Loki will only enforce to the man that this situation is different from the ones he knows from…well, whoever has done _this_ to him. Steve hesitates a moment, unsure where and how he should sit. He can’t be too near, that’d just make Loki twitchier. And the position in which he sits is key too. It has to be non-combative and give the illusion that he can’t get over to Loki at a moment’s notice.

Mind decided, Steve sits about five feet away, facing Loki, and crosses his legs into the lotus position. He rests his hands lightly on his knees and curls his back just a bit – he can’t be too stiff or Loki will think he’s mad about something. He takes a deep breathe in and lets in out slowly. Hulk grunts a bit behind him, but Steve ignores the noise. He’s got to focus only on Loki here. Besides, looking back might make Loki think they’re concocting a plan to hurt him or something.

 _Jeez,_ Steve mentally huffed. Anymore of this and they’d need an entire dictionary on the do’s and don’ts of Loki.

The instant the thought passes though, Steve regrets it. Loki hasn’t asked for this. He didn’t want to be broken and used. And the very fact that Steve even blamed him for one second for that, makes the captain more ashamed then he’s ever been before. But Steve nips his guilt in the bud and buckles down to business.

“Hey, Loptr, my name’s Steve.” He flashes a small smile. “And the big guy behind me in Hulk.”

Hulk rumbles in a friendly manner, but Loki still flinches at the noise. Steve presses on regardless. He’s a mission to carry out and he will not fail – not this time, not like Bucky.

“Hulk didn’t mean to scare you. He just likes meeting new people.” Okay, a bit of an exaggeration, but Hulk will have to forgive him on this. “I’m guessing Bann – Bruce didn’t have a chance to explain that to you yet?”

“Changed.” Loki whispers through his hair, the locks waving a little from his breath.

Steve nods. “He does that sometimes, but it doesn’t mean he’s mad at you or that you’re in trouble. See, there are two people in Bruce. Hulk and Bruce. Sometimes, Hulk will come out for a while. Bruce always comes back though, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

He hopes Loki’s following this so far. He’s guessing at the alien man’s thought process so far.

_In for a penny, in for a pound._

“You don’t have to talk to Hulk just yet, maybe when you’re more comfortable.” Steve glances up at the roof, a sudden thought coming to mind. “Jarvis, has Natasha been informed yet?”

_“Indeed, sir. She and Miss Potts are on their way. She says to ‘sit tight’ and that she’ll be along in ten to fifteen minutes.”_

“Thanks, Jarvis.” Steve turned back to Loki. “See, Loptr, Natasha’s on her way. She probably worried about you.”

“Was bad,” Loki whispers again.

Steve shakes his head hard. “No. You weren’t bad. You just got scared. Natasha will understand that and, if she doesn’t, I’ll make her.”

Steve doesn’t really think Natasha won’t understand, but Loki thinks the woman’s connected to his former tormentors, so he probably needs that reassurance that someone’s batting for his side. If the slight easing of Loki’s taut shoulders are anything to go by, he made the right call.

 _Right then._ “Jarvis, I want you to store this away in one of Mr. Stark’s private files and then delete it. SHIELD is not to get this, understood?”

_“Yes, sir.”_

Tony might think Steve’s on SHIELD’s payroll, but Steve knows when to obey orders and when to questions them. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone into the belly of that hover-carrier and looked for those secret weapons. No, Steve knows the value of thinking on one’s feet and this is not something Fury or SHIELD needs to know about. Especially, because their board of directors might try and use it against Bruce and Hulk. Loki, they’re not so interested about just now, but Steve won’t put it past them to perhaps try something in that area too.

_And I thought boot camp was tough._

But Steve steels his nerves and buckles down. He knows this team, knows that Loki, needs a leader and at this moment all they have is him. So, Steve will push aside his own worries and focuses on keeping Loki calm enough until Natasha gets back.

A small movement catches his eye and he sees Hulk shifting back to Bruce. A quick second decision and he slowly gets up – no need to freak Loki out by quick movements – and ambles over to the chair nearby. He picks up the thin blanket flung over its back and walks over to a, now, mostly-Bruce. He shakes the blanket out and throws it over the man’s shoulders, giving him a bit of dignity back.

Bruce’s pale, human hand reaches up and tugs it tighter around him, flashing Steve a grateful, yet nervous smile. “Thanks.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

Bruce sighs and shakes his head. “I tried to tell Hulk is was a bad idea, but he just couldn’t wait. Loki smells different now, so Hulk wanted to meet the new him. I fought him on it, but he just shoved me out of the way.”

Steve lowers his tone to match Bruce’s quiet one. “Well, there wasn’t too much harm done and now Loki’s expecting it, so it’s not all bad. Why don’t you go change and I’ll wait here for Natasha?”

Bruce, seeming still a bit unsure, gets up. He wraps the blanket around him like a toga and peeks over Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, Loptr. Sorry about that. Sometimes Hulk can get a little impatient.”

Loki blinks at them both.

Bruce turns back to Steve. “I think I’ll stay here. It might not be a good idea for me to leave either until Natasha gets here. Loki’s at a bad point right now.”

Steve nods. “Right. But are you gonna be okay with…” He waves at the blanket.

Bruce snorts softly. “Believe me, Captain, I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine.”

His respect for the doctor/scientist goes up a notch. Not everyone would do this. Some people would leave the awkward situation and come back only when their nerves had settled. That Bruce doesn’t means a lot to Steve. Plus, it also means Steve has backup if Loki freak out for some reason. So, Steve grins and waves Bruce to the chair. “Well, then, might as well get comfortable.”

Bruce takes his suggestion of the chair gratefully. “Thank you, Captain.”

“It’s Steve.”

“What?”

“Steve. My name. You can call me that, if you want.” And suddenly Steve wonders if he might have overstepped himself. Bruce and he are still getting to know each other, still sniffing around the edges, checking to see if everything matches up. Maybe Steve got a little too eager and jumped the gun on this.

But Bruce tilts his head and quirks a smile. “Okay, then, Steve.”


	10. Facing Your Fear

Clint hates this. His teammates are all catering to Loki, tripping over themselves to see to his needs. Loki needs food. Loki must have clothes. Loki has to be encouraged to come out of his room more – yes, Tasha finally accomplished that problem and now Clint has to avoid certain rooms at certain times of the day, otherwise he’ll bump into Loki and Tasha says they’re both not ready for that yet.

Loki, Loki, Loki. Always Loki.

And what about this damage caused by the Chitauri attack? Stark’s pitched in with the repair costs, which are estimated in the millions. What about the lives lost? So many families are burying their loved ones. And what about the annoyance of being dubbed babysitters by Fury? Cause evidently no one else is qualified to watch Loki. He might freak out and attack some citizen or off himself or something.

But does any of this matter to the others? Nope. Nothin. Nada. Doesn’t even blip on their radars. They all turned a blind eye to Loki’s misdeeds. _He needs our help,_ is what Tasha says on that first day in the carrier. _He’s innocent, Clint,_ is what Laura says when he catches a chance to video chat her on a secure link.

And the stupid fact is, they’re right.

Loki _does_ need their help – cause, let’s be honest, who in their right mind would want to take care of someone with that much PTSD? The guy can’t even pee without getting all weepy and snotty. And Clint doesn’t even want to go into the whole ‘you can eat from the fridge’ thing. Loki still refuses to do that one. Tasha’s working on it though. She’s determined and Clint knows what a determined Natasha’s like in full mode. Loki doesn’t stand a chance, though he’s holding out pretty well.

Plus, Loki _is_ innocent. There’s more than enough proof of that. Way too much, in fact. Clint made himself – okay, Tasha made him, but that’s beside the point – anyhow, Clint watched all the videos of Tasha and Banner interacting with Loki. He read all the medical reports. He even hacked into SHIELD and watched a few of the ‘nightmare’ vids.

And Clint hates that the most. Hates that he can’t really be angry with Loki anymore. That is really wasn’t Loki’s fault. That Loki does deserve this help he’s getting. Hates it as much as he hates his Dad for drinking and his brother for abandoning him. Slots it right in there with the circus and his mercenary years.

Clint hasn’t felt this much anger in a long time and he doesn’t know what to do with it all. He can’t put it on Loki – he’s not that much of a jerk – but he wants to. He really, really wants to. Cause, hitting those bags in the gym and crawling through the vents and helping clean the city up just isn’t cutting it.

So what if Thanos made Loki do it?

Thanos isn’t the face Clint remembers making him kill his teammates. Nope, that honor goes to Loki. It’s that sharp grin Clint sees in his dreams. It’s that snide voice that coolly tells him to rip Tasha’s lungs out. It’s that blue stone reaching out to snatch his mind away and make him Loki’s puppet that haunts him all day.

It’s Loki, always Loki, and Clint isn’t even allowed to go see the guy. He doesn’t want to beat him…okay, maybe he does a little…a lot…okay, he wants to deck the guy! But he knows he won’t. He’s better than that (least, he hopes so). He just wants Mind Control Loki out and to replace him with Innocent Loki. He needs to. Has to. Otherwise, he’ll never be able to get over this.

But Tasha says Loki’s not ready for it. That the alien will sense his anger and probably try and jump out a window or something equally stupid (but understandable). And she’s right.

_But that doesn’t mean I have to like it._

No, Clint doesn’t, but he knows Tasha reads these things well, so he’ll follow her lead on this one. That’s why he’s sneaking into the kitchen at 2am. Last night was another ‘let’s get Loki to come out and eat and move around’ attempt. It failed, as always. And Tasha pushed, as always. And Banner stepped in and took Loki back to his room to calm down, as always. Tasha has roped the physicist in on her plans. Says she needs someone to be the opposite end of her assertiveness.

Course Banner protested about Hulk, but, like before, when Tasha wants something, Tasha gets it. And she’d wanted Banner’s help, ergo the man caved and gave it.

Not that it wasn’t a bad choice. Out of all of them, Banner is the calmest (Hulk aside). Stark would be too invasive and Clint still hates Loki. Plus, Thor is with Daddy Odin. So that leave Banner. Phil might’ve been a possibility, but the agent is still getting over his surgery – yet another thing that angers Clint.

So, Banner, according to Jarvis, has settled Loki down. Tasha has apologized for trying to help Loki. And Clint’s stomach has steered him to the kitchen. Food must be eaten while Loki is safely tucked away in his little room.

Is it any wonder that Clint feels like a prisoner? Like the bad guy here?

Clint yanks the fridge door open and grabs a bagel and beer.

Why doesn’t Loki have to wait until Clint’s done eating and lounging around? 

_I mean, it’s not like I was mind controlled and forced to kill people._

Clint’s conscience pricks him for that as he bits into his bagel, but he stubbornly holds onto the thought. He has the right to be ticked off here. Sure, Tasha’s tried talking with him about “it”. Laura’s soothed as best she can from across a laptop screen. But the fact is, Tasha can’t help Loki and Clint – and right now, Loki’s been deemed the top priority right now – and Laura’s miles away and Clint won’t be seeing her anytime soon – it’s just not safe yet.

And Phil’s not on his top game, so Clint refuses to burden him with his worries and whining.

So, that just leaves Clint’s on his own.

But that’s okay. Clint takes a sips of his Corona beer. He’s used to it. He’s lived most of his life on his own, so he knows how to survive. Knows what to do so no one will bother him or anything.

But that’s not what you want, a tiny voice, which sounds a lot like Laura, says.

Shut up! He snarls to it, taking another swing of his beer. What do you know?

You thought your days of running alone were done. You trust these people to have your back.

Clint snorts. Yeah, and look where that got me.

But Clint knows they’d help if he asked. Phil keeps sending him ‘looks’ and Tasha’s been…touchy feely lately – which means she sits close to him and pats his shoulder whenever she passes by him. Clint knows if he told them he needed help, they’d jump. But…but he can’t. Not yet. He needs….he doesn’t know what he needs, but it’s not them.

He needs Laura and the kids.

He needs to face Loki, the real Loki.

He needs resolution.

But he can’t get that yet, so there’s no point in going to Tasha or Phil. Not yet. He ignores the tiny voice that sounds like Laura that tells him he’s lying to himself, that he’s hurting himself, and chugs the last of his beer. He’s fine. He doesn’t need them, even if he does. He just has to avoid Loki until Tasha says the alien’s ready and then he can face this head on.

Just….

Not yet.


	11. Breach

“No, no, nonononono!!!!” he screams and curls into a ball. He hugs himself and wishes Natasha would obey the rules. Master will be angry. So angry. Master will hurt her. Master will hit him. Master will send…Them. He bites his lips and tastes salt. He gags and rocks himself as he curls on the floor. “Bad. Bad!”

“Loptr,” Natasha’s soft voice says and then he feels her small hand on his shoulder. He shakes his head harder.

“Bad,” he whispers. “Bad, bad, bad.”

“Loptr, it’s not bad,” Natasha says and tries to take his hands off his arms. He doesn’t let her. She’s being bad. She’s making him be bad. Master will send the Other to punish them. To hit them. To…to…he cries. Natasha’s hand tugs on his again. “Loptr stop this.”

He stops rocking and peeks over at her. “Please. No more.”

He’s never asked before. Not since…Then. He chokes and starts rocking again. It makes him feel calm and nice. Makes him think of golden hair and soft humming and gentle hands hugging him. No one hugs him. He has to. They only hurt him. Master says he’s bad. He doesn’t want to be bad.

He pulls his knees closer to him and rocks more. Everything gets blurry as water fills his eyes again. Something warm and salty runs from his nose. He cries and cries and cries. He broke another rule. He asked. HE’s not supposed to ask. He can’t. He won’t….He did. He’s bad now. Master will pull his hair again and make Them hurt him.

“Natasha,” Steve says. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“No.” She glares. “He needs to learn.”

Why does Natasha want him to be bad?

Does she want Master to be angry?

“Bad runt,” he whispers.

“No!” Natasha snaps.

He flinches back from her and bumps his head against the wall. It hurts, but that’s good. Master will be happy. Natasha frowns at him.

“You’re not Runt anymore. Remember? You’re Loptr.”

He remembers now. “Runt bad.”

“Yes. Runt is bad. You’re Loptr.”

“Loptr.” He rocks back and forth and sees a red blanket blowing in the wind with thunder. “Thor.”

“What?” Natasha’s face is white, white, white now. She leans in. “What did you say, Loptr?”

He freezes and black spots start coming. He can’t see. He can’t breath. He panics. “No!”

Someone grabs his arm before he can run. He throws up the broth they gave him before.

“Loptr,” Bruce’s voice says through the black. “Calm down. Please. Just breath. It’s okay. We’re not mad at you.”

He tries to obey Bruce. He tries. But he can’t stop crying now and it gets faster and faster and he feels sick. So sick. Maybe the Other will hit him with the chains again. He tries to stop. He can’t.

Then something roars and the ground shakes. He curls up again. He doesn’t want the Other to hit him. Then something big picks him up and…hugs him? It’s hugging him. He can hear a big, big thump, thump, thumping. And deep breathing. And…and…hugging. It’s hugging him. It’s warm and nice and hugging.

He stops shivering and leans into it. The black spots start going away and he can breath again. He looks up and sees green. Hulk. He remembers Hulk. Big, green, and nice. Loud. Nice. Hulk is hugging him and growling at the others.

“Hulk,” someone says, but Hulk growls.

“No. Hulk help.” And Hulk turns away from them and pats him. “Good puny. No hurt anymore.”

“Good,” he says, hopeful.

Hulk grunts. “Good.”

He pats Hulk’s big arm and smiles. “Good. Hulk good.”

“Loptr good.”

He blinks and smiles bigger. “Loptr good.”

Then he gets tired and leans against Hulk more. Hulk hugs him more as he closes his eyes and sees thunder, gold hair, and red.

“Thor.”


	12. Reassessing

They don’t want to hear, that much is obvious to Phil, but he forges on anyway. He cares about this team, so help him he does, and that means he has to point out when they’re going about something the wrong way. But good heavens, it’s like talking to a bunch of teenagers. Oversized (Thor), wealthy (Tony…he’s never letting any of them forget it), and physically powerful (Natasha and Thor…with Hulk thrown in when he decides to pop around) teenagers. Yep, that sums up Phil’s life perfectly.

Fury’s probably laughing at him right now. Oh, Phil, completely ignoring the fact that you nearly died, can you help Miss Potts look after the team. I can’t trust anyone else for such a sensitive mission. Sensitive, his foot. Fury just wants to get back at him for winning all those poker games. Cheater. And a sore loser it would seem. Figures. Fury never did know when to bow out graciously.

Phil snorts. Yeah, gracious, that says Fury. Graciously vindictive is more like it. Oh well, he did accept the offer (order), so he’ll just deal like he always does. Plus, if he survived Natasha and Clint, he’s pretty sure he’ll live through this. Pepper will see to that. Otherwise, who else will watch Sherlock with her?

“That’s enough!” Pepper shouts, right on cue. Sometimes, Phil thinks he might love this woman. He can definitely see why she can handle Tony and runs Stark Industries. Smart and commanding. Phil’s glad he thought to ask for her help in this.

“Thank you, Miss Potts,” Phil grips his folders and continues as if people weren’t just yelling at him and each other. “Now, if you can all be civilized…”

Pouts, but no verbal snarks. Good.

“Good.” Phil relaxes a bit. “Now, I know you all want to help Loki, but having so many people in and out of his room is only confusing him. In fact, it frightens him.”

“We didn’t mean for it to go that way, sir,” Rogers says. “It just sort of happened.”

“And I understand that, Captain, but the point remains. Loki needs less people to distract him. He should be focusing on healing, but instead he’s worried about all these new masters he has to figure out and please.” Phil holds up a hand to stop the flow of words that threaten to pour of Tony’s mouth. “I know that’s not what you were aiming for. Trust me. But Loki sees it that way. Does he not, Agent Romanoff?”

Natasha nods. “He does. I tried to warn them.”

“Like how?” Tony asks. “All I remember is you saying ‘stay out, or else’? Anyone get the same message?”

Mumbles of agreement.

“See?” Tony says, waving an arm. “Not clear at all.”

“It kind of is, Tony,” Pepper cuts in, and Tony gets a hurt look. “Oh don’t even try. You knew what she meant, but you thought you were just smarter than her and did your own thing. Now, Steve might have missed the memo, but that’s only because he left the tower before she gave that warning.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably as Tony tosses him a glare that clearly says ‘suck up’. “What’s the plan then, sir?”

“As of now, I think we should go back to Dr. Banner and Agent Romanoff dealing with all the hands on things. Loki knows them the best.”

More pouts, but no one disagrees. Phil smiles, just because he knows it freaks them out. “Excellent. Agent Romanoff, Barton, if you would?”

Natasha and Clint both get up and follow him out of the room. Phil waits until they are a good few floors down in the elevator before he looks up to the ceiling. “Jarvis, do you think you could block any video or audio transmissions? This is need-to-know. You may keep records yourself, should the need ever arise that it be shared.”

There is a pregnant pause, almost as if Jarvis is thinking this over, and then: “Of course, sir. Transmissions now disabled.”

“Thank you.” Phil turns to his agents. “Anything to report?”

“Loki’s progressing,” Natasha says. “But I’d like permission to up the ante.”

“Permission denied.”

Natasha raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Phil levels his best look at her. “He’s not Red Room, Natasha. He won’t grow from you pushing too hard, he’ll break and die.”

Her face twitches, which is about as good as a flinch. “Sir.”

Phil softens his eyes. “I’m not saying mother him, I’m not even saying you need to stop doing that stuff with his name and the food, just…let Bruce do his thing too. Stop fighting him at every turn. Sometimes, a bit of honey is needed too.”

“Yes sir.”

She gets off at Loki’s floor and then it’s just Clint and Phil in the elevator. Well, that went well. Now to deal with the other elephant in the room. Phil glances over at Clint. The archer is as tense as his bowstring and just as silent. Phil sighs. “How’re you doing?”

“Fine, sir.”

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

“Sir…” Clint looks away. “I need to see him. Met him.”

“Revenge?”

“Closure.” Clint’s eyes are haunted as they turn to him. “He ripped me apart, but yet he didn’t. I have to see that difference myself before I can deal. I’m not going to dropkick him, sir. I swear.”

“I know.” And Phil does. He knew from the beginning Clint wasn’t a vindictive man. Yes, he could hold a grudge, but show him the facts and he’d let go just as quick. Phil picks some invisible flint off his jacket. “Give it time. Loki’s not ready yet.”

“Yeah, so everyone keeps telling me.”

“Self-pity never looks good on anyone, Clint.” Phil frowns. “You say you want closure. To deal. But that’s only you. Poor you, and I grant you that you’ve got baggage and reason. I’m not trying to minimize the horror you went through, but Loki’s got that too. And you know it. You just don’t care. You want this out of the way. So what if Loki gets hurt in the process. Little snit deserves it, after what he did to you.”

Clint’s gone pale; whether from anger or panic, Phil can’t tell.

Phil reaches out and grips his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Clint. That’s why we hired you. Now, you’ve got to live up to that reputation. You’ve got to be the bigger man.”

“It’s hard, sir.”

“No one said it wouldn’t be.” Phil squeezes Clint’s shoulder and lets go. He gets off at his floor and leaves Clint to ride down to the ground level. The archer’s on debris duty downtown. Phil hopes what he says turns into something meaningful to Clint. He doesn’t want to be overly harsh, but sometimes the other man needs someone to give it in black-and-white for him to see it. Phil sighs as he drops his folders on the couch and goes to make himself some coffee.

Maybe he could’ve handled that better, but he never claimed to have all the answers. Never said he was the comforting sort. Heck, there’s a reason he’s not married. It just wouldn’t work. But his agents both wanted his advice and he gave it. Now they had to choose whether or not to act on it.


	13. Christmas Gifts and Woes

Things change in his room again, but it’s…nice. He likes the tiny lights. They sparkle and wink at him and it makes him protected inside. At first, he got nervous about them. Sometimes, They would use lights to hurt him. Lights that stung all over and burned. He got scared these new ones would do it too. But Bruce came and said they were called Christmas Lights. He said they helped you feel safe and happy. He said maybe Loptr might feel that way too.

Happy like…like… He can’t think of who it is. But it has to do with thunder and red, so those must be happy too. They feel safe, so Loptr decides they’re good. Maybe…maybe one day he’ll see them again. If he’s good.

He smiles at the winking lights, but then curls up on the blanket, worried.

He’s not sure Master wants him to be happy. Master always got angry when he smiled, but maybe he’s been good enough and this is another reward. He’s been good for so very long now. The longest ever. So, Master must be happy with him. Maybe…maybe that means Loptr can be happy too. Master doesn’t seem to get angry when Loptr smiles at the Christmas Lights.

Maybe happy is good now.

The door squeaks and Bruce comes in. Loptr sits up straight on the bed. He didn’t know Bruce was coming today. He came yesterday. Bruce doesn’t come every day, so something big must be happening. Loptr scooches closer. “Bruce.”

“Hi, Loptr,” Bruce looks at the lights. “They good?”

He asked that when he put them up the first time.

Loptr doesn’t mind. Bruce is nice.

“They good,” he says to Bruce, and then adds, “They wink.”

Bruce chuckles. “They do, don’t they? Blue and white are definitely your colors.”

Natasha had taken the first lights. They were red and green, but Natasha gave them blue and white ones. She says they remind her of Jotunheim and that this is good for Loptr. It is his…his…something. Something to do with blue skin and ice. Loptr doesn’t mind. He likes the lights. They stay on and shine on him. They don’t hurt or get mad.

Loptr blinks when Bruce sighs and crosses over the room. Bruce checks the windows and empty soup bowl. He looks at Loptr. “You like broccoli cheese soup, I see.

“Yes.”

“Excellent.” Bruce pauses. “Can I check your vitals?”

Loptr stops breathing, but nods. He can’t say no. It’s not allowed. But…Bruce is nice. Bruce doesn’t hurt him. Ever. Not once. Even Hulk likes Loptr.

“Hulk.” he says to Bruce as Bruce puts his cold metal thing on Loptr’s chest. Loptr breathes in and out like he’s supposed to. Bruce hums and nods.

“Hulk’s here. Says “hi” again. I’d let him out, but this room’s a bit small. Scraped up quite a bit of the roof last time he was here.”

Loptr nods. Hulk is big. Very big. And nice. And loud. But mostly nice. He helps Loptr when Natasha gets mean. Bruce gets green and she stops. Loptr is glad Hulk likes him. He wants to tell Hulk that, but can’t. He’s not allowed to talk first. Just answer questions. Master says.

Except, Natasha says that’s not true. She says Master allows it now.

Loptr doesn’t believe her. She breaks the rules. She’s bad sometimes. Loptr has to obey her, but also Master. It hurts his head. Is Master happy that he listens to Natasha? Does Master get mad when Natasha breaks the rules? Loptr never sees her hurt. Maybe Master keeps her until she can walk again and then lets her see Loptr. He hopes Master doesn’t hurt her a lot. Natasha is nice…sometimes.

Bruce takes the metal off and smiles. “Your lungs sound better now. I think you’ll be able to get off those meds soon.”

Loptr thinks this might be good too. No more little, white pills every night. They taste funny and make his tongue full of dust, but Bruce says they help him, so Loptr likes them. He’ glad they help him and Master let’s Bruce bring them.

“Loptr,” Bruce says and then stops. “Loptr, I’ve a question.”

He sits up straighter. Master has sent Bruce with a question. That must be why he came so soon. Master hasn’t had any questions for Loptr for a long time. Loptr must answer or Master will get mad again. He’ll the Them come back. “Loptr will answer good.”

Bruce coughs weird. “Loptr, I know you said you can’t leave the room, but…I was hoping you might for a little bit. It’s Christmas and we want you to share it with us.”

Loptr flinches. “Bad Thing.”

“I asked and it’s not.”

“Not bad.” Loptr thinks over this. Leaving is not bad? Master always said it was. He made Loptr stay in the black, black room and never come out. Loptr knows not to leave. But…Bruce says he asked and Master said he could leave now. Loptr bits his lip and rubs the blanket on his bed. Master says he can leave his room. Leave. He can go out.

“Master says not bad?” Loptr risks asking. Natasha makes him ask things now and Master isn’t angry, so Loptr does it sometimes. It helps him make no mistakes. He likes that. So he risks it now, so he won’t make a mistake.

“Nope. Not even a little.” Bruce puts his metal thing inside his bag. “Want to go out?”

Loptr bites his lip again. Hard. He pats the blanket and looks at the Christmas Lights. They wink. He pulls his legs up and watches the snow fall out the window. It looks soft, all white like his pillow. It makes him feel quiet and warm inside. But also a little sad. He sighs and looks at Bruce. “Good thing?”

“It is.” Bruce touches his shoulder softly. Loptr likes when he does that. It makes him feel as if Bruce is protecting him. “It’ll only be for a little while. I promise. Then you can come back here.”

Loptr nods, uncurling his legs. “Yes.”

Bruce smiles. “You’ll come?”

Loptr pushes himself off the bed. “Master says.”

Bruce’s smiles goes unhappy, but he nods. “Right.”

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

It’s dark in the hall and it makes Loptr nervous. He always heard Them outside. They grunt and laugh and bang on his door. But then They stopped and Natasha and Bruce came. And now They’re not here. Is that good? Does it mean Master is happy with him? Loptr hugs himself and hopes so.

There are more Christmas lights high, high up. Loptr has to stop so he can look at them. They are green and red now. They wink at him too and the warm in him grows. Master is happy with him. Master wants him to be with others. Not the Other, but the others. Bruce and Natasha. Maybe Steve and Hulk.

It’s…his chest is very warm inside. He’s been good and Master is happy. Loptr can be happy now too.

Bruce walks into a big room and there’s a green tree with shiny, white Christmas lights in it. Loptr stops and stares at it. It makes him think of a big yellow tree. With lots of roots. And someone with yellow hair that hugs him and sings. He wants her. But he can’t think of her. Master says and Master must be obeyed.

Still…

No! Master is happy with him. He can’t be bad. He won’t. He pushes the singing woman out. She’s bad, bad, bad. Loptr looks at the tree again and sighs. The tree is big and smells…like woods? Like…home? But Master is his home. Isn’t he? Loptr tugs his hair and tries to make his head not hurt.

Natasha comes over. “Hey, Bruce, I see you got him out.”

“Evidently, Master said so.” Bruce moves his shoulder up and down.

“Ah. Well, it’s a start.” She turns to Loptr. “Hi. Loptr.”

“Natasha,” he whispers and hopes she won’t break any rules today.

She smiles and it’s real this time. He likes her real smiles. They’re quiet, like snow. He smiles back. “You pretty.”

She pulls her hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Loptr. Here, let’s have you sit down.”

Loptr nods and follows her. There’s a small, red fur blanket on the floor. Natasha points at it and Loptr sits down. It’s furry and soft and Loptr wants to sleep in it. He likes it. Master must be so happy with him. He pets the fur. “Soft blanket of clouds.”

“Mm-hmm,” Natasha says. “Wait here, I’ll go…get water.”

Water. Loptr is thirsty. He didn’t know that, until Natasha said something. He watches he go across the room to a table. Natasha is good to let him drink. Maybe she’ll let him have soup too. He likes soup. And this tree. And the lights. He really, really likes the lights. Maybe, if he’s good some more, Master won’t take them away.

Loptr looks around and sees Steve talking with someone new. It’s another man. He’s thin and loud. His smile is sharp. He has a weird beard on his lip and chin. Loptr sees him look over and Loptr shivers.

Why does Master keep sending more and more and more people? Before…Before he only let the Other see him. And then Them. But only two. Now, Loptr has Bruce and Natasha and Steve and Hulk! It’s so many, many people.

Why?

It is a good thing?

Is it bad?

Loptr doesn’t know. He’s tried to know, but he can’t. It hurts his head and makes his skin itchier. His skin is always itchy. Like fire, but Loptr knows Master wants that. Master said. No more…stuff. Loptr can’t have it anymore. It’s bad. That’s why he had to hold the staff of blue. It made him good again.

 ** _One day, you will even surpass me in power, my son,_** the tiny voice says. It’s a female voice. Loptr remembers that. Like Natasha, but good. Or bad. Or…or….Loptr pulls on his hair again. Hard. Harder. Hardest.

A hand grabs his and makes him let go. Loptr looks up at Natasha. She seems upset. Her eyes are thinner and she’s not smiling anymore. She shakes her head. “No, Loptr.”

His chest hurts when she says that. Master says that. They say that. The Other says it. Master says it. The All…all fath…all…who else says it? It’s a big person. Powerful person. With white hair and gold on him. He’s mean too. Sometimes. But also nice. He says no…no Loki. But Loki is dead, so Loptr is glad. The big man won’t say ‘no Loki’ anymore.

“You don’t pull your hair, Loptr,” Natasha says.

“Bad thing,” he tells Natasha and puts his hands in his lap to show he’s being good again.

She nods. “Yes. No hurting yourself.”

“Okay.”

She gives him a cup with water and pats his hand. “Good.”

He drinks the water. It’s cold and feels nice in his throat. He likes cold. Why does he like cold? Master never said. Loptr doesn’t know why Master never said. Is that…okay? Will Natasha tell him why he likes it? Or Bruce? Loptr hopes they do. He wants to be good and get more soup. And keep the lights.

He brushes the red fur under him and thinks about being good.

Soft noise goes through the room. It sounds like…like…Loptr thinks hard and decides ‘music’ is the right word. It sounds like music. But, is that right? Is it music? He thinks so, but Master says he’s not to think. Master will tell him. But Master’s not here. So, what should he do? Loptr doesn’t know. He can’t. He’s not allowed.

It makes him angry, not thinking. And sad. And scared. And safe. Always safe. No thinking means Master is happy. But…Natasha says he has to think now. Bruce wants him to think too. Does that mean Master wants him to think again? Loptr hopes so. It helps him be good. 

“So, what say we turn up the jams and – ” the new man starts to say, but then the windows all over smash and break. They sprinkle on the floor like snow. Some of them cut him, but the Other’s done that too, so Loptr ignores it. Instead, he watches as some men in black clothes jump into the room.

Natasha steps close to him and Loptr can see Bruce looking green across the room. The new man is now dressed in red and gold. Steve has a round thing in his hand. They all glare at the black men.

“What do you want?” Steve asks.

The man in red and gold laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. “Kinda obvious, Cap.”

Loptr shivers at all the bad and Natasha puts a hand on his back. He looks up at her and she gives him a fake smile.

“It’s okay, Loptr. You’re safe.”

“Bad men,” he says.

“Yes. But we’ll get rid of them.”

But then the men in black move away and a girl comes out. She’s dressed in red too, but her eyes are cold, cold. She waves her hands and more red comes off of them. It runs over and hits everyone in the eyes, even Steve as he ducks. They all stumble and shake their heads. Loptr whines and tugs on Natasha’s sleeve, but she’s staring straight ahead and won’t look at him.

Why?

Did he do something bad?

No…no, Loptr realizes, the men in black did. The girl with her red did something bad to Natasha. To all of them. Even Hulk. The big, green monster is sleeping on the floor, frowning. Loptr tugs Natasha’s sleeve again. He wants her to wake up now. The bad men will make Master angry if she doesn’t. And then Master might hurt her.

But Natasha just stares more.

Loptr rubs his arms. His skin is itchy again. Really itchy. It hurts so much he wants to cry, and he doesn’t know why. Why does it hurt and itch? Why is it bad?

A man dressed in blue appears at Loptr’s side and Loptr scurries back against the tree. The prickly branches scratch him, but Loptr doesn’t mind. He wants out. These men are not Master’s. They wouldn’t have attacked if they were. Loptr knows that.

The blue man reaches out. “Time to go.”

“No,” Loptr says, “Bad.”

“You must,” the man says. He’s got Loptr’s arm now.

Loptr rips it away. “No! Bad!”

One of the other men growls and stomps over. “Of all the…just grab him!”

Loptr whimpers when that man grabs his arm and yanks him up.

“You be good and listen to Pietro, or we’ll kill your friends. Got it?” the man says, and shakes him hard.

Loptr stops struggling. Kill Natasha? Kill Bruce and Steve? They’re Master’s, these men can’t kill them. Master will get angry. But they said they would, so maybe they can. Maybe Master is too far away. Loptr must save them.

“Okay,” Loptr whispers. “Loptr be good.”

“See?” the man says and pushes him into the blue man. “Get him out of here. Hydra has special plans for this one, so mind his neck.”

The blue man, Petro, nods and holds his neck softly. “Yessir.”

The girl kicks the red and gold man. “Why not kill them now?”

The man in black growls again. “Because _he_ said so, Maximoff.”

“It makes no sense.”

“Hydra has special plans for them.” The man puts a hand on her arm. “Soon, Wanda. Soon you will have your chance against Stark for what he did. But for now…let him go.”

Something that he said is important. Loptr can tell. But he can’t think what it is. Maybe later…when he’s saved Natasha and Bruce and Steve.

The girl…Wanda...kicks Stark again, but turns away. Loptr breathes again. He didn’t want this Stark to die. Bruce seemed to like him.

Pietro steps closer and smiles. “I’d suggest closing your eyes, my friend. This can get a little, shall we say, bumpy.”

And then Loptr’s world fades to white, and then black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will the near the end of July.


	14. A Growing Mist

Loptr doesn’t like it here. It’s bright and hot and dry. His lips bleed all the time. He’s tried begging for water, but they only laugh and hit him again, so Loptr just curls up in a corner and hides his head in his arms. It doesn’t make them stop, but now he can’t see them, so it’s better. Maybe? Is it? Loptr doesn’t know anymore.

Nothing makes sense.

Master hasn’t come for him.

Why?

Is Master angry with him? Is that why He won’t send Bruce or Natasha? Loptr wishes Master would send them. Hulk would hug him, and then smash the bad men. Smash, smash, smash. Loptr dreams of that. Hopes for it. Cries so much for it.

But Master never sends them.

Because Loptr was bad. He let the blue man take him here. He didn’t fight when the girl in red took off his bracelets. He tried to, but they held him down and she used her red smoke to take them off.  It burns him, to have them gone. Something in him rips at his skin inside. Builds and builds. It tears and screams to be let out. But Loptr doesn’t know how.

Every time he thinks it will explode out of him, it disappears. Goes into the wires in his chest and is gone. He tried to get the wires off, but can’t. They’re stuck in him, and nothing Loptr does gets them out. So, the invisible thing inside him builds up again, grabs his mind and claws it to pieces, and then leaves again. It hurts Loptr.

Hurts him until he screams and screams.

That’s why they put a muzzle on - they tell him it’s called that right before they put it on. They say he’s keeping them up at night. That he won’t shut up. So they’ll make him. The blue man is there when they do that. He looks sad.

After that, the red girl comes to see him every two days. She stares at him, and says nothing. Only tilts her head to the side and glares. Loptr hopes she won’t come in and hit him. He’s so very, very tired of people hitting him. Natasha never hit him. He was good. So why are these people doing it?

Is it because he’s been bad? Should be try and be good for them? Will they stop if he’s good for them? But then Master might get mad at him. Because they’re Master’s enemies. Bad, bad men, who attacked Bruce and Natasha.

Loptr grabs his head and whimpers. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. He wants the pain to stop, to go home, but no one comes to get him. The heat just gets worse and worse. He can’t even walk on his feet anymore, the ground’s too hot. He can see the heat in the air all the time. He…he….he wants to go home. Bruce will make him better. Natasha will give him soup.

He misses soup.

But no one comes.

Not Hulk. Not Bruce. Not Natasha.

No one.

Why?

Why, why, why?

He was good for them, for Master. So why aren’t they here? Why have they left him with the bad men? Why is he being punished again?

The door clicks open and Loptr huddles in on himself. They are back. He peeks out his arms and whimpers. The red girl is there. He doesn’t know what that means. How did she get in? Did they let her? Why? Will she hurt him again? He hides in his arms again, sorry he looked out.

He hears her shoes tap on the floor. Why doesn’t it burn her, like it does him? The tapping stops close to him and he stiffens. She is not Master, so he can protect himself from her. She will hurt him, but that doesn’t mean he has to let her do it. He can protect himself for as long as he can, because she’s not Master.

Something touches his shoulder and he jerks away. But it stays, and he realizes it’s her hand.

“Why do you fight it?” she asks when she takes them muzzle off.

He says nothing, only curls up tighter.

Her hand tightens and something zaps through him. His muscles pinch and he sobs from the new pain.

“Why?” she hisses, shaking him a bit.

“Bad men,” he dares to whisper. “Not Master’s.”

“Stark is your Master?” She sounds angry. “He is not God! You do not have to listen to him anymore. Let us help you. We can use your power to free the world from him.”

“No!” Loptr yells and pushes her away. “Bad! Loptr not help!”

Her hands are shaking and the red smoke is curling out. “Stop fighting us.”

“No,” Loptr sobs. “Loptr good. Loptr not help you. Ever.”

“Then you leave us no choice.”

Her smoke rushes at him and Loptr screams until he only sees black. The pain goes away then. He’s too far away for the red smoke to reach him. So Loptr stays with the black and dreams of Master coming for him.

And of golden hair and soft touches.

_We’re coming, my son._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been FOREVER since i updated this. I hadn't forgotten. Promise. I just got bogged down with Life and then nothing would come. And I didn't want to give you junk, so I waited until something good came. I hope it lives up to all your standards.
> 
> Next update will be...*hides*...in two months. *peeks out* It's because school is starting, I'll be working full-time now, and I've two books to finish, a picture a month to do, AND another FF story. I simply don't know if I'll be able to do another chapter in one month, so i'm giving myself two. *hides* Forgive me!


	15. Regrouping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update should be in December sometime.

The floor’s covered in glass still. Tony hasn’t had the chance to let his babies get to it yet. Fury hates when they make too much noise when he yells. Party pooper. So, yeah, there’s glass still and the smell of smoke. But the bar’s got a few booze left, so Tony takes that as a win.

“How did this happen?” Fury spits out, his black coat slowly turning pink around the edges. Great. That means Tony still isn’t cleared from all that heebie-jeebie magic that girl has done to him. Wonderful. Just what he needs when Fury decides to pop in – unannounced, he might add. But that’s Fury for ya, all pomp and spontaneous appearances. Not as good as Natasha or Clint, or even Phil, mind you, but close.

Maybe a 7/10? A close 50/50? No, maybe more a 30/70.

“Stark!” Fury barks out, and Tony jumps. Bruce nudges him and sends Fury a dark look. Tony appreciates the backup.

Okay. Right. Meeting. Loki gone. Bad stuff.

Tony slumps again in his seat on the couch. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Fury. Hydra got in – thanks for that, by the way, your security sweeps have reached a new low today. Magic was performed – and don’t even get started on that whole ‘you should’ve been prepared for that’ speech. It’s been – what? – maybe five months since New York attack? I’m working on it, but I’m not god, regardless what the magazines say, I can’t do it just like that! And now Loki’s gone. So, yeah, we’re screwed.”

Sheesh, what did that girl put in her magic? He hasn’t babbled like this since…well…since never. Great. More magic messing mind stuff. He’s so getting Jarvis to ban all magic from his houses. Forever. Except for Loki, you know, when he gets all better. They need a couple of hitters on their team too. Maybe that Doctor Strange guy as well? Have to check him out first. His beard’s suspicious. And….wait, what was he doing again? Oh, right, spilling his guts to everyone in the room.

Great.

“Got anything to add, Sparkle Pants?” Tony asks Steve.

Steve bristles slightly at the insult, but rolls on, full steam ahead, like Tony knew he would. Good. Let Captain Goodie-Two-Shoes do the explaining. He likes being in charge anyway, so he can take the rap for them too. Well, most of it. Tony isn’t going to let Fury fire him or anything.

“We had no warning, sir,” Steve says.

Oooo! Is that a hint of criticism for the golden boy? Nice. Tony didn’t know he had it in him.

“Nobody had any warning, Captain,” Fury says in return.

“That’s the thing, sir. We should’ve had some.” Steve sits forward, elbows on his knees. “You said your teams were looking into it. That they were close. Yet they somehow missed this. How?”

“Rest assured, Captain, I intend to find out.”

“We have a mole,” Phil says out of the blue.

Fury steams, but doesn’t negate him. Interesting. So, Fury suspected it. Well, good to know he doesn’t think his little organization above turning sides. Phil takes the stink eye Fury gives him and sends a bland ‘I’m-not-impressed’ look back. Sweet. Tony really should’ve made some popcorn for all this.

“There’s no other explanation, sir,” Phil continues.

“Right,” Fury says, straightening. Oh boy, Daddy Popeye is ticked. Which means somebody’s gonna be hurting soon. Hopefully, not them. Hey, it wasn’t their fault! They tried. Tony has the bruises to prove it – and by the way, that cheap shot from the Magic Girl while he was unconscious was…well, cheap. Not cool, MG, not cool. Fury clears his throat. “Romanoff. You’re going black. Find out where Loki is. Report back.”

“Yes sir.” Natasha gets up, all smooth danger, and leaves without another word. Tony catches Phil watching her and wonders if he’s as worried about their Widow going into the enemy trenches as he is. Steve sure is, if that hard look in his eyes are anything to go by.

“Barton, you’re reporting to base. Let’s catch this mole quickly.” Fury pauses. “But under the radar. I don’t want Hydra knowing we’re any closer than we were a few hours ago.”

“Yes sir.” Unlike Natasha, Clint stays seated. Fury levels a glare at the archer, but doesn’t order him gone. Clint just shifts his legs. Great. Tony’s missed some secret message. Ah well, that’s what Jarvis is for. He’ll catch all this on tape and Tony will go through it later.

Fury spins away, his now, thankfully, black coat billowing. Really, Tony wants to know how he does that every time. It’s got to be some hidden talent. Anyhow, Fury leaves in a quiet huff and everyone else mopes from their seats.

“Well!” Tony says, slapping his knees and pushing up. “I dunno know about you, kiddos, but I intend to make myself useful. Brucie, you with me?”

Bruce, bless him, gives a tiny smile and nods. “Sure. Better than sitting here.”

“Exactly! I knew you’d understand. Come on!” Tony wraps an arm around the thinner man’s shoulders. “Science awaits us!”

He waits until they’re way out of ear shot down the hallway before slowing down. His arm stays in its friendly position, but he does sneak a glance behind. Bruce snorts.

“You’re not very subtle.”

“Awww, Brucie, you wound me!” Tony pouts, grinning as they step into the elevator. “Now, what say you and I go find us some Hydra.”

“I thought Miss Romanoff was assigned that.”

“First off, you gotta stop calling her that. I’m surprised she hasn’t knocked you upside the head for…oh wait, no, I’m not. Lucky you, having a Hulk. Right, moving on, she hates it when people call her ‘Miss’ anything. I sense some history there, but Daddy likes his tongue where it is, so no speaky on that point. Anyhow, just call her Natasha.”

Tony leans against the elevator wall. It hums behind him and vibrates his shoulder blades. “Second, she may have the mission, but that doesn’t mean she’s going in blind. Not on our watch.”

Bruce’s smile gets all genuine. “Of course.”

“Hey, now, none of that mushy stuff! I have totally selfish, ulterior motives for doing this!” Tony sniffs. “I just wanna stick it to Fury that I know best.”

“Uh-huh.”

The elevator dings and they both get out. Tony huffs. “You know, you’re a right pain when you get all snarky.”

“But you keep me anyway.”

“No duh! Who else would I have as my science bro?” Tony grins. “Certainly not Richards. Guy’s about a fun as a wet blanket…wait, those can be kinda fun…hmm, maybe a disco dance…nope, that’s insulting to all cool disco dancers…man, maybe he defies definition. I’ll have to tell him that!”

“You do that, Tony,” Bruce says as they enter their lair…errr, science shop. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, you know how I was working on that tracker for Loki’s magic?” Tony waggles his eyebrows. “Should be the same in theory for MG, right?”

“MG?”

“Magic Girl.” Tony waves a hand. “Moving on. We get this up and running, and she won’t know what hit her!”

“I doubt anyone who meets you does.”


	16. Emerging

_Previously:_  
The elevator dings and they both get out. Tony huffs. “You know, you’re a right pain when you get all snarky.”  
“But you keep me anyway.”  
“No duh! Who else would I have as my science bro?” Tony grins. “Certainly not Richards. Guy’s about a fun as a wet blanket…wait, those can be kinda fun…hmm, maybe a disco dance…nope, that’s insulting to all cool disco dancers…man, maybe he defies definition. I’ll have to tell him that!”  
“You do that, Tony,” Bruce says as they enter their lair…errr, science shop. “So, what’s the plan?”  
“Well, you know how I was working on that tracker for Loki’s magic?” Tony waggles his eyebrows. “Should be the same in theory for MG, right?”  
“MG?”  
“Magic Girl.” Tony waves a hand. “Moving on. We get this up and running, and she won’t know what hit her!”  
“I doubt anyone who meets you does.”

* * *

_Today:  
_

It comes back to him now, in bits and pieces from time to time. Flowing in and out of his mind like…like…Loptr tries to think of the word, but loses it. Again. It happened again. Loptr whimpers. It hurts to think. To feel. To be. But he knows it’s important, to remember this something, so he does it anyway.

There’s a woman with long, gold hair and young man with thunder there, on the edges of his mind. Frigga and Thor, his mind tells him in a burst of clarity. How did he forget that? It’s important to remember names. He told him so. They said so. Everyone wants him to remember things, or forget things, or do something.

It’s hard to know which to do.

Is he to forget them, this woman and man?

Or should he hold onto them?

Loptr doesn’t know anymore.

It stings to think of them. Rips into his blood and makes it burn, burn, burn. Like fire and ice. Like the girl with red smoke. It makes him scream and whimper, but never for long. It goes. It all goes.

And then comes back.

Loptr sometimes wonders why it goes. But then Wanda comes with her red smoke and he’s drowning in pain again. Too much to think about other things. Important things.

She’s just left, after smacking him. He curls up and wishes Master were – No! Master hurts him. Master is bad. No! Master is good, always good and right. Loptr is never to question him. Loptr…he grabs his head and cries.

Why is it so hard?

He used to know what was good and bad.

Now it’s all gone.

Lost. Gone. But never for long. It comes and goes. Goes and comes. It is. It never was.

Loptr scratches his arms, the sharp sting helping his head to stop hurting so much. But it makes his body achy. Sore. He always aches now. Always. It never stops, because _they_ never stop. _Wanda_ never stops for long. Tears run on his cheeks and Loptr scratches more.

He wants it to end. Please. Now. He’s been trying to be good, so why doesn’t Master come to stop them?

“Stop that,” Pietro says, taking his fingers off his arms. “You’ll make it worse.”

“Worse,” Loptr whispers. “Bad, worse, best.”

“Yes, you better stop then. No more scratching.” Pietro hands him a little piece of bread as he sits down next to Loptr. “Eat.”

“Loptr good?”

“Not really, but you look ready to die, so eat.”

Loptr nods and takes the bread. Sometimes Master did things like that too. Gave him food when Loptr didn’t deserve it. Said Loptr wasn’t allowed to die yet.

“Still useful.”

Pietro tilts his head. “What?”

“Loptr still needed. Not die yet.”

Pietro’s eyes go sad, but he nods. “I suppose so.”

Loptr bites into his bread. It’s soft and tastes like…like…butter? Yes, it tastes like butter. Loptr likes butter on bread. It’s nice. So is this the bread. Loptr likes that his bread is soft and with butter. He smiles. “Butter.”

Pietro shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s got fats that you need.”

Loptr bites again. “Blue man nice.”

Pietro snorts and shakes his head. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew…”

Loptr leans forward and pats Pietro’s knee. “Pietro good. Not get hurt.”

Pietro stiffens, jerks back, and leaves. His eyes are very, very sad. And angry. The door hisses closed and Loptr is sorry he’s gone. Pietro is nice to him. He gives him secret food and smiles at him. Nobody else likes Loptr. They hit him. They laugh at him. They let Wanda hurt him when they’re done. They…

Loptr scratches his arms, but stops when he remembers Pietro doesn’t like it. And Loptr wants Pietro to be happy with Loptr. Because Loptr is good, and doesn’t scratch. Loptr will show him. Loptr will be good. Like he was with Master. And Natasha. And Bruce.

Loptr sighs. He really wishes Natasha or Bruce were here. They don’t hurt him. They give him soup. They make mistakes, but they are nice. Loptr misses them. He misses…who does he miss? He had their names before. Thunder and Gold. But now it’s gone. Gone, gone, gone.

Why is it gone?

He tries so hard to make them stay.

But they always go.

Loptr huddles in the corner and hugs himself. He wishes Hulk were here. Hulk would hug him, and make sure the Bad Men don’t hit him again. But Hulk isn’t here. No one is here, except the Bad Men. So, Loptr curls up and cries, because no one is coming to help him.


	17. The Pieces Move

Thor takes a deep breath.

It does nothing to calm the flutter in his chest, where his heart beats. Behind this door is a realm that Thor cannot hope to understand. Loki – Thor’s breath catches – Loki always came here without fear. Marched in, head held high, as if he had some right to cross this threshold.

Perhaps he did.

Thor knows not.

He believes it though. Loki was many things. Magic being the foremost. While others might practice the art, Loki was that mystic force. Their mother says Loki, most likely, was born with it. Thor can remember him being able to embody the power, even from an early age.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_“Mother,” Thor says, as he watches his baby brother levitate his crib. A baby giggle resounds throughout the room. Thor’s forehead wrinkles. “Won’t others be scared of him?”_

_“Are you scared, my son?” comes the heavy answer. His younger self cannot see the weight in this question, but Thor can see it now._

_“No.” Thor shakes his head, biting his lip, frown deepening. “Loki never hurts me. He likes me.”_

_“Yes,” mother says, pulling Thor to her lap. “And you must never abuse that love, my son. It is a rare gift, that a magic user trust someone so completely.”_

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

How easily Thor crushed that trust over the years. Oh, Loki was no innocent. He provoked many an incident between them. But…Thor grimaces. It accomplishes nothing, standing here like a child. He is no youngling. He knows his path has led him here, before his mother’s weaving room, for a reason.

Thus, Thor straightens. His breath fogs in the crisp air wafting through the open window. Frigga insists it needs to be open at all times. Why, Thor hasn’t a clue, but open it stays. Regardless, he knocks softly on the oak door. He pretends that there is no echo that follows. Nor does he feel a warm breeze brush against his hair in the dead of winter.

“Come in, my son,” his mother’s voice says, clear as if she were standing next to him.

Thor does so.

The smell of summer rain wafts across the air first. It is always the way with his mother’s magic. Loki’s smelt of autumn….though, in recent years, Thor can remember catching the scent of decay as well. His mother says that a person’s magic reflects their inner peace. Thor mourns what this means for his little brother.

“I see The Rivers have called to you,” his mother says. She smiles gently. “Come, let us see what they have in mind.”

Thor crosses the stones and sits, as he once did, at her feet. The stone is heated beneath him, no doubt triggered by his mother’s magic. Frigga smooths her simple dress and places a pale hand on a piece of red thread, feeding it into the loom before her.

The curve of his mother’s loom reminds Thor of an arching gate, one that opens the doors to visions of the future. For that is what his mother sees when she touches the loom. Visions, glimpses from the streams of time. The gift – or curse, depending on how one saw it – has been passed down through Frigga’s family, from mother to daughter, for generations. It is something that Thor, honestly, does not understand…and is more than a little frightened of.

Tender fingers stroke his hair and he looks, away from the loom, to his mother. She smiles down at him, while her other hand continues to weave the pattern of her vision. The loom moves on its own now as she threads the red in.

“So serious is my son these days.”

“No more than I should be,” Thor rejoinders. “I have lived too merry for far too long. It is time I proved myself to my people.”

“And to yourself?”

Thor glances away, resisting the urge to fidget. “Mayhap.”

A small sigh, though Thor cannot tell if it is a relieved one or filled with sadness. Frigga ever did warn him of his brash ways, counseled him to slow his fists. And now that he has, Thor cannot help but think she is…glad? It is not the right word to describe his mother’s feelings.

 _Loki would know,_ a jealous part of his mind whispers. Thor firmly puts that petty emotion back where it belongs, outside of his mind. _Loki is not here. And I cannot keep leaning on him for everything; neither in strength or weakness. It is past time I stood for myself._

“Should I fear what thoughts you think of now?” his mother says, and this time Thor can see the tinge of sadness in her smile.

“Nay,” Thor returns, clasping her hand in both of his large ones. “I seek only to grow into someone the realms can trust. I find that taking time to think helps me.”

“Take care not to think for too long, my son,” Frigga cautions, her eyes glazed in shadows. “Ere you miss your chance.”

Thor tightens his grip on her hand. “What have you seen? What path am I to take?”

Her eyes clear and she takes a shaking breath. “You must leave for Midgard at once, Thor. Your brother has need of you.”

“Mother, please, is there naught else you can tell me?” There are scant times where Frigga has withheld her visions, for to tell would bring the ruin of the worlds. It is a heavy task his mother bears.

His mother’s gaze searches the hidden paths. “Much is cloaked in darkness from me, but there is a group that has captured Loki. Their symbol is that of a red skull – ”

“Hydra!”

She takes her hand from the loom. “You know of them?”

“The Captain – Steve Rogers – spoke of them. He thought them destroyed.” Thor scowls. “It seems some roots still survived.”

“Indeed. Malicious and evil is their intent. I presume they seek power from your brother. I feel pain and sorrow in his magic.” A single tear escapes her eye, rolling down her cheek like a tiny diamond. “Go to him. Save him.”

Thor nods and leaves without a word. Frigga will have need of her handmaids during this time. Thor steps to the pedestal, near the corner of the door. He presses a hand to the green ball that lies cushioned on the dais, silently alerting the women to his mother’s requirements as the ball reads his mind. That done, Thor goes outside and turns to the garrison in the northern sector.

Down the winding side road, pass the Great Hall, Thor walks. His footsteps crunch in the snow-covered path. The tiny pearls of frozen water glisten in the sunlight, reminding Thor of armour flashing. He bites his lower lip slightly. It’s a habit from his childhood days. The pressure helps him think, though he makes sure never to do it in front of his friends. He must appear strong and sure before them, and his men.

His men…

He has men…but…should he take troops with him? Would it help? Thor’s steps falter. He cannot say for certain. He knows too little of the true situation. Mayhap a large force would frighten this Hydra into harming his brother, perhaps even killing him.

Yet he cannot do _nothing_. Loki needs him!

And then it strikes him.

Heimdall.

The Guardian can tell him of Loki. Surely, his watchful eye has seen all. Thor whirls about and strides towards the Bifrost.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

It’s a confusing mixture of cool and heavy in the Observatory. Thor almost expects to see his breath as he enters. Of course, it is but an illusion that Heimdall places upon the chamber. Something to do with his magic, Thor has no doubt. Perhaps it enhances the ancient force somehow for the Guardian? Makes it easier for the man to see the realms. Maybe it protects the Bifrost. Thor shrugs it off for later inspection, mayhap with his mother.

“You came at last, my prince,” the Watcher says, his golden eyes never straying from his appointed task of scanning the realms.

Thor snorts. “You needn’t be so smug about it.”

“Smug, my prince?”

Ever the innocent, Heimdall. But Thor has known him since birth. He’s felt that wicked humor too many a time to fall for such pretty words. Not anymore. And, he is here on urgent business. “I need your eyes, Heimdall. What see they of my brother?”

“Pain and sorrow.”

Thor grips the hilt of his hammer. “Where is he?”

“With Hydra. He slowly remembers, and fights back.”

A bit of something hard in Thor’s chest loosens at this. Loki is becoming himself again. Thor’s chest tightens again. And how does his brother find himself? Captive again. Tortured and brought low. With no one to aid him, just like with Thanos.

No.

Thor will not allow it this time. He cannot.

“Where, Heimdall? Where do they keep Loki?”

The Guardian takes his eyes off the realms for a brief moment, and Thor is able to see the deep gold in them. “Deep in the mountains of Russia. A small town whose name has been forgotten with time.”

“Know you the name?”

“I do not.” Heimdall’s grip on his sword tightens. “Twas before my Guardianship. You could, perhaps, look in the archives, my prince. However, I can say it is near a small town named Shuya”

“There must be no delay.” Thor nods. “Do the Avengers still reside in Stark’s Tower?”

The Avengers. Those meant to watch over his little brother. Those who failed in that task. But Thor struggles to push the anger away. It cannot be his new friends’ fault. He knows their bravery and kindness. They would not simply hand Loki over, and never to those as evil as Hydra. He prays none of them were harmed or killed in the attack – for surely that is how Hydra came to have Loki.

“Indeed,” Heimdall says, interrupting Thor’s thoughts. “They seek your brother with every means possible.”

As well Thor knew they would. He should never have doubted them. “Are they much harmed by Hydra?”

“Very little, save their pride.” Heimdall turns his sword and a path booms open. Colors of every spectrum roar into existence. “It seems Hydra has future plans for them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I went there. I gave you TWO chapters in one month. It's my early Christmas present to you all. 
> 
> Next update though, February (just to keep giving myself breathing room)


	18. Bring On The Rain!

Natasha ignores the growing pit of unease in her stomach and scrolls casually down the hall. The thick red rug muffles her footfalls. Christmas lights are still up. They sparkle bright colors of joy that mock the serious situation. And it is serious. Who knows what Hydra is doing to Loki right now?

You do, that small voice left over from her time in the Red Room whispers.

Ice goes down Natasha's spine.

She's probably the only person here who has any idea what Loki's going through. And even then, her Intel on Hydra is several years outdated. They could've upgraded to more advanced technology – that's almost a given – or looked into less lethal ways of extracting information – this isn't a mercy for their captives, as it only prolongs their agony.

0/0/0/0/0

"No, Natalya," the greying matron says as she stalks around her. "Your task is simple. Extract the information from this woman, and you will pass. Fail, and I shall give your place to Gretchen."

A shiver of something goes down Natalya's spine. She won't call it fear, that emotion is long dead. Maybe apprehension? Natalya knows she needs her position to be secure. It's her only hope of survival. Therefore, she must complete this test.

Her life depends on it.

And so, even as the blood drips down, even as the screams get hoarser, Natalya still stands before the yellow-haired woman. "Where is the American spy?"

"I don't know," the woman sobs, her curls matted against her sweat-soaked face. Her harsh breath rattles off the metal walls. "Please, I don't know."

Natalya has the Room's agent up the ante. Now cries echo off the walls. Pleas. Natalya steels herself against them. It is either her life or this woman's. Natalya knows which one is more important.

"Where is he?" she asks when the agent stops.

"I don't know! Ple-e-ease!" the woman begs, as Natalya signals the agent to begin once more. "I don't kno-o-o-w!"

….

Natalya succeeds in the end.

0/0/0/0/0

So, yes, Natasha pushes the bile back down her throat and walks into Stark's living room as if she hasn't a care in the world. Ruminating on her fears won't do a thing for Loki. She'll deal with it after they get him back. She'll allow herself a private moment to think only then.

Stark, Banner, and Clint are lounging on the couch in a sad attempt to look casual. Natasha snorts. As if she can't figure out they were using Jarvis to hack into Shield Intel. She hopes they got in. They need to find Loki soon, or there won't be anything left to save.

Steve is mysteriously late.

So, of course, this is right when something big decides to attack the roof. Wam! The entire room shakes and the lights go out, plunging the room into pitch black. Another Hydra attack? Or something worse? By now, someone has got to know that the Avenger's Tower has been infiltrated. Some of the lower level mobsters might try their own luck. A dim light comes through the windows as Natasha's right hand goes to the butt of her gun, while her left pulls a knife from her boot.

She'll not be caught off guard again.

"Really? Now?" Stark whines. Natasha can just see the black outline of his body in the grey lighting. He's still on the couch, along with Banner. Clint's standing up. She can't see if he's armed, but she assumes he is. He's too smart not to be.

"Ugh!" Stark continues. "And Shield said they'd upgraded us to a Security One status."

Something rustles from his side of the room, and Natasha sees him stand. "Guess that shows how good they are. You doin' ok, Brucie?"

"Fine," Banner grinds out. He doesn't sound fine to Natasha, but she hopes he can keep Hulk from emerging. A large, angry Neanderthal isn't what they need right now. Maybe later, when they've regrouped and understood the situation better. Right now, they need Banner more than Hulk.

"Jarvis?" Stark calls. The shadow of his head looks up to the ceiling.

Nothing.

Natasha upholsters her gun, and tugs it up and out. If they got Jarvis offline again, this isn't any low level mob attack. This is Hydra. Back for more kidnappings…or to kill them. Her inner cynic begrudgingly agrees with Stark on Shield's security. This is pathetic.

She'll tell Phil his theory on a mole is becoming more than theory….if she lives through this.

Someone tiptoes into the room. The light from the window doesn't reach them, but Natasha can hear their shallow breathing. She holsters her gun without a sound and then tackles the intruder to the floor. Yanking the man's hair back – bone structure can't be anything but a man – she prepares to slit his throat if he doesn't answer her questions.

"Na-ta-sha," Steve strains to get out passed her hold.

She lets him go slowly, so as not to hurt him further. "Sorry."

He coughs. "No problem. Better to have you on guard."

She gets off and helps him off the floor. "Jarvis is out again."

"I know. Tried to reach him before I got here. Nothing." She feels him inch closer. "Think it's Hydra again?"

Natasha doesn't miss the dark anger in those words. There's a long-held grudge in Steve, one that only needs a match to ignite. It's a dangerous liability to save in a teammate. Regardless…

"Maybe," she says. "This is longer than last time."

"You can say that again," Stark interjects. She hears him shuffle. "So, unless they got lost on their way in, I'm guessing we've got a horse of a different color here, folks."

Natasha can feel elation wafting off Steve at the reference – she knows he knows that movie – but, like a good soldier, he tables it for later. Instead, he clears his throat. "Any idea who it might be?"

"If I knew that, I'd be Jarvis." Stark sighs. "But I'm not sitting around like a duck. Let's go, Brucie. We'll introduce them to Hulk."

"Tony –"

"Relax, science bro. We'll only let him tickle them."

Natasha shakes her head. She has stealth training in darkness. Clint does too. But the other three will be as helpful as ice in a blizzard. More a hindrance and danger, than anything else.

"And how do you suggest we get to them?" she asks.

"Byyyy," Stark sings, and a bright beam of light ticks on. "Using my handy, dandy flashlight!"

"And alerting them to our presence before we even see them," Natasha says.

"Ergo, we bring Hulk." Stark pauses and glances at Banner. "You don't mind going in front, do ya, Brucie?"

There's a slight, but real, hesitance there. Stark seems to like Banner, and doesn't want to offend the man. Not because Hulk might come out and kill him. But because he likes Banner as a person. Interesting. She'll have to update his profile page. Seems he can work with someone.

Banner takes a deep breath. "I'll do it."

"You sure?" Stark asks, leaning down so he can catch Banner's eye. "I can always just go down to the basement to get some toys."

"I'm sure." Banner gives a small smile and sticks his glasses on the table. "Let's go."

She takes note that he doesn't immediately transform. Smart move. It'll give them more an element of surprise in the dark halls.

0/0/0/0/0

Everyone's steps seem to be amplified by five in the darkened halls. They might as well be shouting and banging the walls to Natasha. She hopes it's not the Red Room, trying out their luck too. Any agents that place sends will be as good as her, if not better – Natasha's not stupid enough to think she's the best anymore.

Clint's outline glances around a corner, bow and arrow at the ready. She watches as he scans the room and then whispers 'all clear'.

"Okay, this is getting weird," Stark says. "We've gone through two levels now, and got nothing. Not even a peek-a-boo. Does anyone else think this is weird?"

"It's weird," Steve says. "Natasha?"

She's about to answer when someone big turns the opposite corner. There's no personnel allowed on this floor, so it can only be an intruder. She's on them faster than she can blink, wrapping her legs tight around their neck. Another man. He grunts as she swings him to floor. Clint shouts a warning to their attacker. Who ignores that in favor of smashing Natasha on the side of the head. Her entire field of vision goes out and she can feel herself going limp.

They're dead.

If this man can take her down, the others – with the exception of Hulk – don't have a prayer.

But, strangely, when her eyesight comes back, it's not to the sound of her new team dying. But to Thor's worried face, illuminated by…his hammer? She blinks. How hard was she hit? Thor's face relaxes a little when she does.

"My apologies, Agent Romanoff," he rumbles. "Too many things have happened as of late. I'm afraid I attacked when I should have waited longer."

Ah, that makes more sense. She sits up, wincing as pain lances through the side of her head. "It's nothing."

Thor frowns. "I think not."

She levels a glare his way and a soft smile crosses his face. But it's quickly gone.

"I fear I am the cause of your tower's problems. I…" the alien looks ashamed. "I did not think of the effects the Bi-Frost might have on it."

"You didn't think what raw power might do if it whapped into a tower?" Clint's tone is shocked. The archer raises an eyebrow. Natasha agrees this is a large oversight on Thor's part, but also knows that right now isn't the time to ream the alien out on it.

"Why are you here?" she asks him. "Has Heimdall seen something?"

His eyes widen for a second. "You are indeed correct. I have a location."

It's more than she hoped for. She waits for his temper to flare. They were, after all, supposed to watch over his little brother. It took Natasha a while to figure that angle out, but once she did, it made perfect sense. Yet…Thor says nothing to accuse them.

Banner clears his throat. "We…we're sorry, Thor. We didn't –"

"I know, my friends," Thor says, sending the shorter man a kind look. "I do not blame you for this."

"Where is he?" Natasha asks. They can leave the mushy talk for later.

"Near a small town called Shuya. It is near…Russia?" Thor's forehead wrinkles. "Will you be able to find it with Jarvis?"

"Once he's online again, yes," Stark says. There a small hint of a jab in those words. Stark doesn't take kindly to anyone messing with his things. Natasha sees Thor grimace.

"I apologize, friend Stark. You know I would never harm Jarvis intentionally."

Stark's face smooths out. "Yeah, I know. Just…try and find a nice patch of grass next time, buddy. It's not like we'd miss you or something."

"Indeed."

Steve lays a hand on Thor. "We all make mistakes. It shouldn't take Tony too long to have Jarvis up and running. Right, Tony?"

"Of course."

And there's the arrogance Natasha was waiting for. Trust Steve to know when to call it out. Now Stark will be aiming to get them up and running in record time. Not that he'd have been slow before, but now he's got his ego to boost…and Steve to prove right.

And just to prove he's mostly back to normal, Stark pauses at the doorway. "And, just cause no one else is asking…since when does Mew-Mew glow in the dark?!"

A smirk spreads across Thor's face.


	19. Merely Players

It's cold now. So very, very cold. Loptr shivers and hugs himself as he crunches through the white mounds. Something nearby screams. Loptr hugs himself tighter. His head hurts, but he keeps on walking. He has to now. Because he got away, and he's not going back. Natasha will be so happy with him. He got away.

The bad men in black came again. They hit him a lot. He begged them to stop. They laughed and laughed.

0/0/0/0/0

_Loptr cries and curls into a ball. "S-stop! Lop-Loptr good!"_

_They don't stop. Instead, they grab his arms and make him uncurl. Others hit him more – more, more, so many more. Something snaps and fire goes through Loptr's chest. He screams and chokes._

_Where is Pietro? Why doesn't he stop them?_

_But Pietro doesn't come to help him._

_Only punches and kicks come. He wants to cover his ears. He doesn't want to not hear them laugh. Suddenly. he feels the warmth in him calling to be let go. It grows big. It doesn't want to go through the tubes again._

_It wants out, out, OUT._

_It wants him to let it…let it…do something. It wants to do something, but Loptr can't figure out what. It says it will help him. Make the bad men stop. So, he lets it out. He can't take this anymore._

_He let's go._

_Light goes out of him. Green light._

_The bad men scream. Red splashes on the walls. Death smells everywhere. The bad men fall down. They go silent. The light gets brighter and the room disappears with a flash._

_He's outside._

_There's smoke everywhere. Loptr chokes on it, but the green light pushes it away. He likes the green light. It's nice to him._

_But…_

_No one is with him anymore._

_Where did they go? He looks around and around, but can't find anyone. Only white hills and long, black sticks that point at the sky._

_So, Loptr gets up and walks away._

0/0/0/0/0

The white circle in the sky is big.

Big. Big, like…Master.

No!

No, He is not Master. No one is Master! No one…no one…everyone. They all want him to do something. Not do something. Which one is right? Does he do? Or stop? Obey or not?

Loptr doesn't know anymore. It hurts so much. Hurts like the fire in his chest. Burning, burning through his skin. Black, red, on blue. Only…his chest doesn't hurt anymore. The light made it better.

Loptr smiles.

Good light. He likes it.

But…where can Loptr go now? He doesn't know where Natasha or Bruce are. Loptr bites his lip. Does he even want to go back to them? They are with…Him. Master. But not Master. Loptr knows that now. Master is not Master. He is bad. Loptr isn't supposed to like him.

Does that make Natasha and Bruce bad too?

What about Hulk?

Hulk gives hugs. Hulk can't be bad.

Can he?

Loptr grabs his hair and yanks on it. Hard. It hurts. Loptr does it again. The pain helps him think better. Not like with Him. No, this hurt Loptr can control. He does it again.

Think. Think.

He hears something big flying close. The ground growls and shakes. Loptr stops. He wants to cry. Are the bad men back? They'll be so angry with him. He let the light out. He made it smoke.

He left them.

Loptr doesn't want them to hit him again. So he runs. The white crunches more under his feet. It hurts his toes a lot. He slips on it, falls down. The green light helps him up again. They go around a hill, but a man jumps in front of him.

He has a…a…arrow! He has an arrow. Loptr hugs himself. The bad man will shoot him. Loptr does cry now. He doesn't want to be shot. It hurts.

The green light says it won't let him get shot. It goes to hurt the bad man, but the bad man puts his arrows down. Puts his hands up, like he's afraid.

"I know Natasha!" he says fast. "We're friends!"

Loptr stops the light. Friends? Natasha likes this man? So...he's not bad?

"I got him," the maybe-bad? man says. "Stay put, Nat."

Thunder booms. Loptr shivers as he looks up at the clouds. He thinks of red. "Thor."

"You okay?" the man asks.

Loptr blinks. Okay? He frowns. "What okay?"

"Are you hurt?"

"No. Light make Loptr better." He smiles. "Light good."

"I can see that," the man says as he looks at the green light flying around. "You wanna see Natasha?"

"Natasha?" Loptr bites his lip. "Loptr good?"

"Yes. Very good. Loptr got rid of the bad men who hurt Natasha."

"Natasha hurt?" Loptr looks around and steps closer. "Was it…Him?"

"Him?"

"….Master…"

"No. These guys aren't him. They're….different." the not-bad man says. "You did a good thing, Loptr. You want some broth? Natasha has some back on the plane."

Loptr hugs himself more. He doesn't know if he wants to go to Natasha. She's with Master. She will make him put the light back inside. Loptr wants it to stay out. He likes it.

But maybe…

Maybe Natasha will let him keep it. She breaks the rules. Maybe she won't hit him for letting it out. She wanted him to disobey the Master's rules, Loptr remembers that now. She didn't like Master. She…she is good.

Loptr nods. "Loptr go."

"He's coming in, Nat." the man says as he touches his ear. "Get that broth ready."


	20. Eye Of The Storm

It's quiet when the not-bad man takes him to Natasha. Loptr likes that. Quiet is safe (now, there was a time when it wasn't). Safe is good. It means no more hurting or bad men. He doesn't have to scream or listen to the bad men laugh. He hopes the bad men stay away forever. And ever and ever.

Maybe then Loptr can sleep.

He didn't get to sleep in the hot room.

He wants to sleep so much he starts to cry. The not-bad man stops crunching in the white stuff (snow, his mind tells him). His eyes get big and he takes a small step to Loptr.

"What's wrong?" not-bad man asks softly. "Are you hurt?"

"Sleep," Loptr sobs and the green smoke knocks down a tree. It's angry and wants to hurt things. It doesn't like that he's hurt. But Loptr just wants to sleep, so it stops. "Tired."

The not-bad man looks at the fallen tree and licks his lips. He gives Loptr a fake smile. "It's ok. I know you're tired, but Natasha's close. We just need to get over that hill and she'll give you broth."

"Tired," Loptr whimpers. He doesn't want broth anymore, he wants his bed. To sleep, sleep, sleep.

"We'll get you to your bed soon. I promise."

Natasha told him about promises. Said they were good and helped him. That she would never 'break' a promise. Maybe the not-bad man is the same. Loptr bites his lip. "Promise?"

"Of course."

"Okay," Loptr says and starts up the hill. He wants to see Natasha and his bed. He's been so good. Maybe she'll even let him have a broth and his bed. He'd like that. He's…Loptr….he….it….

Everything stops.

There's a man standing by Natasha. He's big. He has gold hair. He's….He has a red cloak! The man from his dreams!

"Thor!" Loptr screams. He runs down the hill. He doesn't slow down. The green smoke knocks down more trees and rocks. Loptr flings himself at the man in the red cloak. He hits the solid body and wraps his arms around.

_Thor, Thor, Thor._

Thor is here.

Thor has come for him.

_Thor. Thor. Thor._

"Thor," Loptr cries, holding on tighter. He won't let go. Not ever. Thor can never leave him again.

A big hand rubs his back and Loptr smells lightening. "Brother all is well. I am here."

"Thor." Loptr looks up. "You came."

Loptr almost thought he wouldn't.

"Of course, brother." Thor gives him a sad smile. "I couldn't leave you by yourself, now could I?"

Loptr hugs him more. "You promised to come and you came."

Natasha was right, promises do help.

"We need to go," Natasha says. "Scanners are picking up two jets closing in."

Thor squeezes Loptr's shoulder. "Brother, we must leave this area. Hydra will come again soon.

Loptr thinks about what Natasha said, and then what Thor just said. He stiffens and peers up. "Bad men come back?"

"Indeed." Thor points to a big black thing by them. "Let us get in the plane."

"Green smoke?" Loptr asks, letting the green smoke out again.

Thor's eyes go wide. "Brother…"

"Help?" Loptr asks.

Thor shakes his head. "Not this time. Perhaps soon. Can you…can you put it away, brother? The green smoke."

Loptr tells it to go back and the green smoke disappears inside of him again.

"Thank you," Thor says. He turns them to the 'plane'. "Come, I shall allow no harm to befall you."

Loptr lets Thor push him gently to the 'plane'. It smells funny, like fire (but not). Loptr sniffs and goes closer to Thor. If it does go fire, Thor will protect him from it. Thor always protects Lok –Loptr. Loptr trusts him.

"Tired," Loptr tells Thor as they sit down on a bench. It's cold and hard, but Loptr likes it better than the hot room. It's nice. And Thor is here. "Loptr good. Sleep?"

Thor pulls him in to lean on his chest. "Rest. I shall watch for our enemies whilst you slumber."

"Good?"

Thor smiles. "Always, brother."

Loptr nods. He starts to close his eyes, but then the 'plane' whistles and shakes. Loptr jerks up. Are the bad men coming again? Are they kicking the plane? Will Thor help him? He shakes. "T-Thor?"

"Hush. All is well," Thor says. "Tis only the plane flying to Stark's home."

"Home?"

"Yes." Thor hugs him close. "Sleep. I will not let anything happen to you."

Loptr still shakes a bit, but he leans back again in Thor's chest. Thor never lied to him before. Thor likes Loptr. Thor protects him. So bad men can't be here. Thor said so. Loptr closes his eyes and smiles.

Thor is back.


	21. Don't Panic

The Wonder Twins of Death get back with Thor and Loki sometime around 10pm. Not that Tony is waiting for them or anything. Please. The WTD's are assassins, while Thor and Loki are aliens. Tony….is just worried about his plane. Clint's flying it.

Nuff said.

So, yeah, so not worried about the mission. Or what Hydra has done to Loki. Nope, super chill here. Just Tony sipping on a glass of vodka.

Natasha pauses at the doorway and snorts. "Really, Stark?"

"Of course," Tony says, all teeth as he grins. "Clint's flying."

"Right." She glides in further like some kind of beautiful snake – the deadly kind that hypnotizes you and then bites when you least expect it. Yeah, Tony isn't buying any of the innocent air for one second. "Clint says you need to tweak something on the left wing."

"What did he do to my baby?" Tony whines, as is expected.

Natasha ignores him.

Clint enters, so Tony focuses all his pent up worry – for his plane – on him. "What have you done to my baby? Nat says you messed it up."

Clint rolls his eyes. "It kept trying to veer off to the left when on autopilot."

Tony curses in his head. He thought he'd taken care of that little problem months ago. Or was it weeks. He might have been a bit drunk at the time of said fixing. Tony pouts. "I blame you."

"If it helps you sleep at night."

"Infinitely."

Natasha slams the fridge door closed with a bit more force then necessary. Tony gets the message and shut up. He knows better than to advance when Natasha's in this kind of mood. After that incident with the fork, he's never going to push that envelope ever again.

Thankfully, Thor decides to arrive with Loki. The latter of that party looks half asleep and more than a little beat up. Bones are visible again – great, they didn't feed him – and his clothes are rags.

"So, more broth?" Tony asks, fiddling with his glass. As much as he likes the distraction from certain fork death, he does _not_ like dealing with sensitive gushy stuff – like emotions. Comfort is not his forte. Bruce can attest to that.

Speaking of which…

"Jarvis, can you get Brucie up here?"

**"Of course, sir."**

"My thanks, Anthony," Thor starts to say.

"Tony. I insist."

"Tony." Thor brings his little brother over to the nearest couch. But, to Tony's slight surprise, the big guy sits them both on the floor, leaning against the couch arm. It's a little weird, to be honest. Tony just bought those couches for the express purpose of the team.

"Do they smell?" he asks Thor, waving at the couches. "Or it some weird Asgard thing?"

Thor, for all his blondness, only looks confused for a few seconds. "Neither, Anthon – Tony. It is merely easier for Lok – Loptr."

Ah.

Makes sense.

The elevator dings to let Bruce out. The younger man blinks at Thor and Loki sitting on the floor, but then shrugs – as if to say, I've seen worse. He strides in further, hands shoved into his pockets.

"So, the mission was a success then."

"Indeed." Thor glances down at his sleeping brother. "I fear I have need of your assistance still, friends."

Tony does not like what that implies. "What's wrong?"

"Loki…" Thor takes a breath. "Loki is dying."

"What?!" From Clint. "But he was fine in the field. Even did his little green magic stuff."

"That is the problem."

"Explain," Natasha says.

Thor's forehead crinkles. "I shall try, but I fear my knowledge in this area is not what it should be."

"Is it physical or mystical?" Bruce asks from his corner.

"Both, though one is caused by the other."

Hello Twilight Zone.

"His magic is hurting him," Natasha states.

"Indeed."

"Why?" From Clint again.

"Because his human body cannot take such raw power at one time." Thor tightens his grip on Loki. "My brother is not merely able to access the mystic forces. It lives in him. That is why my father did not remove it from him when Loki was exiled. To do so would kill him."

"Like with Merlin in that BBC series?" Natasha asks.

Thank God they'd been able to watch a few episodes before Thor left the first time round. Otherwise they'd all be floundering right now.

"Indeed," Thor replies. "My father couldn't take it away, thus he blocked the passages and changed Loki's body structure to make it harder to access."

"But now its back," Tony says. Loki's magic is somehow back – cough, Hydra, cough – and he's stuck in a human body, not an Asgardian one. Which means…well, something bad evidently.

Life sucks.

That much Tony's pretty sure about. He huffs and punches his laptop keys a bit harder than he should. He hopes one of them breaks. Than he can yell at something, instead of wishing he could.

But no, it's Stark Tech, so it holds firm and takes his abuse.

Stupid tech.

Stupid complications.

Stupid Odin. What guy doesn't think through his plans? Okay….fine, Tony might not if he were in Odin's shoes, but _he's_ human. Odin is supposed to be this powerful, almost all-seeing alien dude. He's this towering figure of a king, designed to elicit fear and wisdom into others. How did _he_ miss _this_?

Bruce clears his throat and Tony glances up to find everyone staring at him. Perfect, more stupid to go around. Tony knows he's not being fair. He could care less. This newest development…well…yeah…

Bruce sighs. "Thor, is it all right if Jarvis helps us with a visual aid?"

Thor nods.

So, Jarvis puts up a hologram of Loki's internal organs right there in the living room. Loki's organs are a mess. Half are melting, while the other half are just plain disappearing.

"Is that…?" Clint says, leaning forward in his chair.

"Yep, when he was in the plane ride here." Tony spins another picture into the mix. This one of Loki now. It's worse. Some of the organs are missing entirely. At least a kidney has up and moved to somewhere else in the universe.

"Hydra didn't do any of that?"

Tony laughs. "I wish. Then I could fix it. But no, no! This is all Daddy dearest fault."

Clint grimaces. Oh right, Daddy issues with him too. Tony hides his own wince – he didn't mean to bring up any nightmares for Clint – and moves on.

"Anthony," Thor growls out. "Have a care how you speak of my father. He is not a cruel man. He did not foresee Hydra unlocking Loki's magic."

Tony really wants a drink.

He continues instead. "Can't we call up and ask him to reverse this then? Make him Asgardian again?"

"I fear…" Thor sighs into Loki's hair. "There are many on Asgard who would view such a help as treason."

"He's king!" Clint splutters. Tony wonders who such an amazing assassin is so inept at politics. But Thor answers before Tony can give vent…spoilsport.

"Indeed, Agent Barton, and, as such, he is subject to the whims of his people." Thor glares. "Or, at least, the ones of his court. He reassures me the lower class have no such quarrels with Loki."

"So it's just the rich dudes," Tony says. "Great. Politics. I knew politics were going to come into this eventually."

Natasha jabs him really hard in the ribs for that. Ow! He glares at her. What? Something had to be said. Sheesh. Why does no one ever say what they think? At least he's keeping everyone honest here.

"There's really nothing your father can do?" Bruce asks, shuffling forward. "Can't he stop it up again?"

"I…I do not know for certain," Thor says. "Mayhap he can. I have asked Huginn and Muninn to convey my message to him."

Tony hates the waiting game. He really, really hates it. Because it means they have to rely on others to help them, and Odin's track record isn't the best. Hmmm, maybe Tony can find a way to call up Steven. The doctor's pretty good in the whole magic thing.


	22. Quoth The Raven: Nevermore

_Frantic eyes meet his own as a silent confirmation is made. The winds of Asgard billow off the edge of the bridge. The light of a thousand and one stars shine down. Soft leather slips through his fingertips._

_Loki lets go._

_Not for any inane reason such as suicide. He is rife with grief, but too angry to give anyone the satisfation of dying. He shall not die this day. No, Loki lets go for the simple reason of escaping. Ignoble, perhaps._

_But then, when has Loki Odinson (Laufeyson!) ever been righteous?_

_If one were to listen to the Nobility, not since his first century._

_How fortuitous, than, that Loki does not listen. Else he would be doomed to face the High Court's wrath._

_Loki has traveled the paths between the branches for years. Born the insults and scrutiny that comes_ _from the High Court for these ventures._ And _knows enough of those hidden cracks to aim his decent from the bridge just right. Will the others mourn his death? Oh, without a doubt, some will. However, Loki plans on returning one day. Asgard is his home, regardless of his bloodlines. He shall not abandon her people._

_No, he will return when he has something greater to offer the All-Father than giving the High Court his blood._

_Odin is king first, father second, and Loki will not burden him with this decision._

_So, Loki lets go, to the screams of denial from his brother._

_0/0/0/0_

_Thanos catches him some two years in._

_It is his own fault._

_One cannot walk the Paths Between without incuring some sort of injury to their fae, their mystic core. Loki is careful to never drop his guard completely in this darkened realm. He soothes his battered fae with whispered words of healing. He watches his steps before and behind him with careful eye._

_He forgets to watch below._

_It is there Thanos' agent finds him._

_Loki cannot recall how it happens, only that it does, and he lives to regret it._

_0/0/0/0_

_The raw power from the gem tears against his shields like an unyielding ocean; slow, steady, and at times violent. It chips away at his defenses as the salt of the sea cuts away the stone cliffs. He writhes in his bonds. His mind is so consumed by the invisible attacks that he cannot truly appreciate the physical punishments the Chitaeri rain down upon his body. His mind, after all, can only focus on so much._

_It matters not._

_Loki knows these physical attacks weaken his stength too._

_He can to nothing to stop them._

_0/0/0/0_

_In some of those rare rest bits, ones designed to allow his mind to acknowledge his body's pain, she comes to him. Tall, lithe, and green as an emerald, the Daughter of Thanos comes to kneel at his side. When first she came, Loki thought her another tormentor. Now, he knows she is so much worse. She teases him with tiny comforts, innocent in their own gesture._

_"Give in," she tells him, gently pushing his hair back from his eyes. "Let him win."_

_"No. I cannot."_

_"Than you will suffer," she says with tired eyes. "And he will still win."_

_0/0/0/0_

_Her sister is not do subtle,_

_"You will aid us!" she screams, digging her metal fingers into his chest._

_He gargles a defiant, sickly, "Never."_

_She does not give up._

_Neither does he._

0/0/0/0

_Now he has trouble telling reality from dream. It all melds together. The pain, the screams, the demands, the memories, they are all one. And why should they not be? Thanos is called the Mad Titan for a reason. He does not just breath forth his mad scemes and power. No, he infects those around him with an insanity. No one can be in his presence for too long without becoming affected._

_0/0/0/0_

_He cannot...cannot...no! Think!_

_It isn't...isn't..._

_No! He will not give in! He cannot! Cannot..._

_He cannot...he will...no...he..._

_0/0/0/0_

_"Why fight this?" Green asks._

_0/0/0/0_

_"Let me, Father," Blue says. "I shall break him for you."_

_0/0/0/0_

_They come for him. Master is displeased. Master has told them to hurt him again._

_0/0/0/0_

_"Loki is dead," Master says._

_"No! I am not!"_

_"But soon you will be."_

_0/0/0/0_

_They let him rest today. Master is happy with him. He has done a Good Thing. Master will let him eat...perhaps?_

_0/0/0/0_

_"Loki is dead," he tell Master._

_"Perhaps." Master sits forward. "But I do not believe you. Take him back."_

_They grab his arms. They pull him away._

_"No, Master! Please!" he begs. "Loki is dead!"_

_0/0/0/0_

_Bright. He cannot see._

_Pain. Has he done a Bad Thing?_

_"Runt is sorry."_

_Hot. He can't breathe._

_0/0/0/0_

_(_ **Present** **time** _)_

Sweat clings to his arms and chest. It pools beneath his legs, tangled as they are the the sheets, and makes his nightwear stick to his skin. Tears brim in his eyes as he yet again recounts his time with Thanos. So much lost. So much still missing.

His door slides open and a disheveled head pokes through.

He sighs. "Thor."

"I felt you call."

"Only a memory. An echo."

Thor sits at his side, never touching but always close. Loki loves him for that.

"He did not reply?" Loki asks, for there is a glimmer of new sorrow in his brother's eye.

Thor looks away with a shake of his head. Hard muscles ripple as Thor clenches his hands into fists.

Loki brushes his fingers against a white knuckle. "Do not blame him so. He must keep the peace, if Thanos is to be thwarted."

"How can you say so with no anger?"

"You carry enough anger for us both."

"Should I not?" Thor glances at him. "I am allowed to rescue my brother, only to watch him die."

"As king, you will be asked these sacrifices too."

"Than I shall not be king!" Thor roars.

Loki chuckles, his chest heavy with the struggle to breathe. "So impetuous, brother."

They sit there, silent in his gentle admonishment.

At last, Thor stirs. "You truly feel no ire to...Father?"

"I am too tired for anger."

Silence.

"But not too tired for disappointment," he whispers.


	23. Interlude I

The elevator doors slide open and Tony watches as Professor Xavier glides out in his silver chair. The mutant looks cool as a cucumber as he directs his chair closer to the table they're all at (totally doing normal things and _not_ spying on his session with Loki!). It's a mini miracle, Xavier's nonchalant attitude, considering he's been in a room alone with Loki for like two hours. Not that Loki would do anything, just...Loki.

Yeah, that about says it.

To quote Brucie, the guy's a 'bag full of cats'. Hisses, howls, claws, and anger. Well, when he's not crying or being semi-lucid.

Thor practically bounds over. "Were you able to fix him, Professor?"

"I cannot just 'fix him', Thor." Xavier stops besides Steve. "His mind was ravaged by Thanos. I can't even begin to tell you how painful that is - for anyone. That he's this far is astounding."

"But...just yesterday evening we spoke."

And this morning he screamed while trying to claw his way through the wall. There was blood everywhere. Clint got all white, enough so that Tasha made him spar with her.

"I thought you said he was improving," Thor says, almost whispers. "Your mind works were easing his memories. He told me so himself."

"As in any recovery, there will be lapses. Many of them. Some worse than others. This is just one of those bad times." Xavier sends Thor a sad smile. "Go to him. He's asked for you."

Thor rushes out as if the Furies (and yes, those are real) are after him. He even forgets Mjolnir.

Steve looks over at Xavier. "He's still dying."

"Yes." Xavier sighs and rubs his temples. "I can't dabble in his magic. It's too far out of my realm and power. Fix his mind, that I can do. But his magic needs someone more adept than I."

It'll crush Thor.

They tried to reach Strange, but got told he was on some hippie, mystic retreat and was not to be disturbed. Snobs. Tony sips his bourbon. He ignores Steve's disapproving look. What? He's stressed and Pepper locked him out of the labs for a day. Sleep is overrated, ergo...drinks.

"Well, Strange is out," he informs Xavier. "Got anyone in your corner?"

Xavier gets all distant - enough so that Tony wonders if he's contacting someone - but shakes his head. "No. The only one is not yet ready. Her powers would overwhelm her, and kill hundreds."

"Right. No understudies." Tony downs the bourbon. "Kay. So I'm going to go annoy Fury. Bet he knows something. Steve, you feel up to researching Norse stuff? Maybe we can get Daddy to answer faster."

Steve snorts. "I'm going to the library."

"Barbarian."

"It has things Google doesn't."

"Name one!"

"Ambiance."

"Touche." Tony winks at Xavier. "Thanks for helping where you can, Professor."

"Of course." Xavier rolls his chair into the elevator. "I have set another appointment with Loki for next Thursday. Jarvis has it noted on your calendar."

"Jarvis, you seeing the Professor on the side?"

_**'Of course not, sir.'** _

That snark will _never_ get old.

"Right. I'm off," Tony grins, "like a piece of cheese."

Steve rolls his eyes. "More like bad eggs."

"I resent that." Tony saunters off, his hand already typing out the numbers he wanton his cell.

A ring.

Two.

" _Hello? Mr. Stark?"_

"Hey, Jane. Any progress?"

" _Some. I think I might have the right frequency. Darcy, don't touch that! Now I have to make it stay longer than four seconds."_

"That's awesome!"

It really is. Means they might be able to ping Daddy Odin themselves, instead of going through bird.

" _Don't tell Thor just yet though. I don't want to disappoint him."_

"My lips are sealed."

He's pretty sure she snorts. What is with people and snorting at him? He can be serious...mostly. (But why ruin a good thing by being mature?) There's a high pitched beeping on her end.

"Everything okay?" he asks. He'd hate for her to blow up. Thor would pout for days, and Tony might miss her genius a teeny, tiny bit.

" _Just Darcy making toast again._ "

He's seen that in action. It's a thing of horrific beauty.

"I'll let you go then. Lemme know if anything changes."

She hangs up.

Tony stuffs his phone into his pant pocket and knocks on a bedroom door. A muffled 'come in' comes through. He does so. Ugh! The place smells clean. It shouldn't be allowed, this kind of OCD. Tony glares at Phil.

"I thought we talked about this, Agent. No super cleaning while you sleepover."

"I swept."

"And dusted, and washed the windows, and polished the wood." Tony sniffs. "I have robots for this."

"You need something?" Phil raises an eyebrow.

Oh boy. The eyebrow of doom is out.

"Know any magic dudes or dudetts?" Tony plops down on the immaculate couch. "Xavier says his only bet is too underage."

"Jean would be."

Great, even Agent knows who this is.

"So?" he prompts, waving a hand. "Anyone?"

"Perhaps..." Phil shakes his head. "No."

"Agent?"

"I thought maybe Merlin, but it's nearly impossible to find him when you want."

"Wait... _Merlin_ , Merlin?" Tony slumps. "Any other ancient myths I should know about? Loch Ness. Big Foot. Maritans."

"No."

"...So, no Merlin?"

"I doubt it." Phil rests his chin on his fist. "Strange is out, of course."

"Hippie."

The eyebrow of Doom turns into the Volcano of Wrath.

Tony is unrepentant (mostly). "Btw, Clint is kinda messed up from seeing Loki all freaked out."

"We talked."

"He good?"

The volcano goes back to a simmer.

Tony is unmoved (a little).

"Go research, Stark," Phil says. "I'll see if I can dig up anyone on Shield's end."

"You're a dream!"

Phil snorts.

Again, with the snorting! Tony's going to start a tally.

But for now, on to the books about unicorns and my little ponies!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's a little rough. I apologize for that. I needed a filler that explained Loki's rapid recovery of his memories. I hope it's believable enough. I couldn't really think of anyone else, besides Strange (and I didn't feel up to writing TWO snarksters). And yes, it's short, but...filler. Hope to have a longer one soon (fish).
> 
> Lemme know what you think. Any wishes or prompts for the next chapter are more than welcome.


	24. Trust

**Last Time on BPoT:**

_"Know any magic dudes or dudetts?" Tony plops down on the immaculate couch. "Xavier says his only bet is too underage."_

_"Jean would be."_

_Great, even Agent knows who this is._

_"So?" he prompts, waving a hand. "Anyone?"_

_"Perhaps..." Phil shakes his head. "No."_

_"Agent?"_

_"I thought maybe Merlin, but it's nearly impossible to find him when you want."_

_"Wait...Merlin, Merlin?" Tony slumps. "Any other ancient myths I should know about? Loch Ness. Big Foot. Maritans."_

_"No."_

_"...So, no Merlin?"_

_"I doubt it." Phil rests his chin on his fist. "Strange is out, of course."_

_"Hippie."_

_The eyebrow of Doom turns into the Volcano of Wrath._

_Tony is unrepentant (mostly). "Btw, Clint is kinda messed up from seeing Loki all freaked out."_

_"We talked."_

_"He good?"_

_The volcano goes back to a simmer._

_Tony is unmoved (a little)._

_"Go research, Stark," Phil says. "I'll see if I can dig up anyone on Shield's end."_

_"You're a dream!"_

_Phil snorts._

_Again, with the snorting! Tony's going to start a tally._

_But for now, on to the books about unicorns and my little ponies!_

* * *

**And now:**

It’s the second time Wanda’s felt the old man’s presence in her mind.

The first, was when she and Pietro had naïvely allied themselves with Magneto – to repay a debt to him, Eric told them. Lies, all of it. He only wanted their power for his ‘cause’. Wanda sighs. So many years lost to that madness, so many lives ended by her hands alone. It keeps her up some nights, wondering how to wash that blood off. The screams of those that begged echo forever in her memories.

Then they’d gone to worse. HYDRA. Which is probably why the old man is contacting her now. To deal with the fallout of their kidnapping Loki.

She relaxes her shields enough to let Charles Xavier in.

“Impressive,” the image of a bald man says.

“What do you want?”

“Your powers.”

Blunt. She likes it. “And why should I give them to you? Your cause is as bloody as Magneto’s.”

He winces at that. “I know you have been misused.”

Understatement of the century. She and her brother have been hunted, tortured, nearly killed, and then exploited. Misused is not how she’d describe it.

“Misused,” she tosses the word around in her mind. “A quaint word for so much terror.”

“Please, Miss Maximoff, there is little time. I have a young man who desperately needs your aid.”

“Indeed.” She presses for the information locked in his mind. His shields are strong, but they drop the instant she touches them. She pulls back. No one opens their mind to a stranger like this. Charles sends out calm.

“Take it.”

She retreats further.

How can this man not know that it was she and her brother who made Loki this way?

“Miss Maximoff, I know you will never trust when I say ‘it will be forgiven eventually’. Perhaps not soon, perhaps not ever by some. But you are our best hope for healing Loki.” The man’s illusion takes a breath. “Therefore, I invite you to take this information from me.”

“And should I take more than that?”

The man’s smile becomes razor sharp. “I shall decide if you need whatever else you…poke at. Understand, Miss Maximoff, I give you many allowances. You’ve had a hard life, but I will not just let you mind-rape me. There are certain things you are not privileged to know yet.”

“How convenient.”

“Take it, or ask me, but stop this grandstanding.”

She hesitates again, a brief blip of a second, before she reaches out.

Memories not her own, not even Charles’, assault her. Centuries of loneliness with a golden brother, eons of trying to please a court that fears his power, years of battling the madness of jealousy. And then she’s falling, falling onto a loud world of pain, terror, and blue. A giant telling of plans to destroy the universe, of tortures too horrible to describe when she refuses to aid him. Slowly, her mind leaves her, retreats into the black safety of her own mind, as Thanos clenches his control over him.

She blinks as it stops. “So much suffering.”

And she added to it.

Unknowingly, but still she and Pietro made it worse.

“Indeed.”

“I might not be able to heal all that,” She shakes her mind clean of the residual horror that Loki’s memories hold on her. “It is extensive.”

“I have explained that even you might not be able to fix everything. Thor is…disappointed, but open to the idea.”

She scoffs at that. “Open.”

“Miss Maximoff…”

“Enough.” She starts her journey back to the real world. “I shall be there in two days. Make sure Shield knows I will not be turning myself or my brother over to them.”

“I have already spoken to Fury.”

She pauses. “Thank you.”

“Will Pietro be joining you?”

She grins. “As if I could stop him from a chance to annoy Clint. No, my brother will be there as well. He…dislikes leaving me alone with humans.”

“Of course.” Charles starts to fade. “Until Thursday, then, Miss Maximoff.”

She peels open her eyes, the corners dry. Pietro is at their hotel window, his left foot rapidly tapping the floor. The smell of mildew wafts over. She rustles enough to let him know she’s returned.

“You were gone a while,” he says, never looking back. “Doctor Strange?”

“No, Charles.” She stands. “We’re needed in New York.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SOOO sorry its taken this long for an update, and that it's short. I...well, to be honest, I almost died. Not kidding. I had an allergic reaction and was rushed to the hospital on Aug. 5th. But I'm better now. Got epipens and stuff. For all you who are wondering, it was cinnamon that did me in. Who'da thunk?
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you like this filler. Hopefully, my muse will hit me sooner and I'll give you a ice long update in a few weeks.


	25. New Hope

**Last Time on BPoT:**

“Enough.” She starts her journey back to the real world. “I shall be there in two days. Make sure Shield knows I will not be turning myself or my brother over to them.”

“I have already spoken to Fury.”

She pauses. “Thank you.”

“Will Pietro be joining you?”

She grins. “As if I could stop him from a chance to annoy Clint. No, my brother will be there as well. He…dislikes leaving me alone with humans.”

“Of course.” Charles starts to fade. “Until Thursday, then, Miss Maximoff.”

She peels open her eyes, the corners dry. Pietro is at their hotel window, his left foot rapidly tapping the floor. The smell of mildew wafts over. She rustles enough to let him know she’s returned.

“You were gone a while,” he says, never looking back. “Doctor Strange?”

“No, Charles.” She stands. “We’re needed in New York.”

* * *

**And now:**

 

Two young adults – one dressed as a female elf, the other as a Stormtrooper – push through the glass door of Stark’s building. Natasha zooms in the security camera. It would be weird, if it weren’t an annual thing every Halloween. Something about Stark just inspires people to not act their age. It’s also true he gives generous amounts of candy to everyone who asks it; and while most adults are in trying to score an internship or business deal, a few do it just to get a quick snapchat photo beside him.

“Mr. Stark’s out right now,” Stacy, the front deck secretary, tells them, flashing a sweet smile. She’s good. Which is why Stark hired her in the first place. She can weed out any posers, and stand up to the best of them. “Candy is to the right, in the second room with the Hulk/Frankenstein face.”

“We were told we would be meeting him here,” a thick, sarcastic Russian accent asks, just as a wave of red swirls around her. The beach-blond hair shortens and darkens to black. Her outfit changes to a black and red dress.

Not just anyone would reveal their trick card like that.

Natasha stiffens, her fingers itching to go to her gun – the obvious one on her hip, not the one on her back. But it only takes a few seconds to recognize this isn’t another HYDRA attack. No, this time. No, today they’re here by official invite. “Wanda Maximoff.”

Strangely, the Stormtrooper doesn’t change.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Pietro Maximoff.”

The Stormtrooper tugs his bulky mask off, to reveal the serious face of Ms. Maximoff’s younger brother. His light hair is sweaty, stuck to his forehead. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to either, he looks just like his profile in the SHIELD database. As does his sister. Makes sense they would come incognito. And what better way then as Halloween partiers?

It takes guts, though, to agree to come after what they did, what they helped HYDRA to do. It isn’t enough to forgive, but it’s a start. Natasha pauses. It's been almost a year since HYDRA took Loki, last Christmas. She blinks. How did she miss that time? It feels too short for how much as been packed into it. Granted, nothing outlandish, but emotionally it's been more than enough. 

“Let them up, Stacy,” she says, focusing back on the now.

“Mr. Stark left instructions to give you full access to the top floors,” Stacy tells them, still playing the dutiful secretary. She stands and pushes back her chair with a neat tap of her heel. “If you’d both follow me.”

As she turns to the elevator, they both exchange looks that tell Natasha more than they’d probably like. Pietro is still very much against them coming here. He might think it a trap to get revenge on their participation in HYDRA’s attack. Wanda is wary, but curious. Whatever Professor Xavier told her must have been quite convincing.

Natasha stores it for later.

Stacy pushes the golden button for the upper elevator with a dainty, perfectly manicured finger. “Will you be staying with us?”

“No,” Wanda says, her eyes narrowing.

“Mr. Stark will be most disappointed.” Stacy taps her Stark-pad a few times.

The elevator dings and they walk in.

The ride up is tense. Pietro looks as if he might vibrate out of the box, were it not for his excellent control. Lessons, Natasha is sure, Magneto trained into him early on. She’d rather not think of how he got a silly, smiling kid to be so hard in less than three months. And then what HYDRA must have also enforced.

Later, yes, she’ll dig into that, but for now she focuses on the real mission.

Loki.

Who has been having more off-days than good.

Evidently Halloween brings up memories/nightmares/terrors. Yellow eyes and purple are the worst triggers. Professor Xavier refused to say anything concrete, treating his help as doctor/patient confidentiality, but he has alluded to a Titan called Thanos. It’s the same name Odin gave when he pulled the purple ooze out of Loki.

“Will you be needing anything else?” Stacy asks as the elevator doors open to the communal living room.

“No.” Wanda pauses. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Ms. Maximoff,” Stacy trills.

Natasha makes a mental note to tell Stark to raise her paycheck. She glances at Clint. “Thoughts?”

“We’re desperate.”

“She’s good.”

“And a criminal with a lot of deaths on her hands.” Clint slouches in his chair. “Her brother has only a bit less than her. Fury is not liking this. Hell, I don’t like this! They whammied us, Tasha. Bad. And yet we’re letting them come.”

“Xavier says she’s on the up and up. Feels guilty.”

“She should.”

“Clint.”

“No, Tasha. I’m _staying_ mad this time. There’s no magic purple goo to blame on mind control. This is all on them.” Clint glares at the screens. “I’ll have eyes and ears on them at all times.”

“As will I, Stark, and every member here, including Xavier. We’ll handle it.”

Clint snorts. “That why Stark fled?”

“SHIELD meeting.”

“Is _that_ where he _is_?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll convince Fury how bad an idea this is.” Clint stretches and gets up. “Well, let’s go crash this party.”

Natasha grimaces softly as she follows him. It’s true, Wanda and Pietro have a lot to prove to them. Its only by Xavier’s recommendation, and Loki’s deteriorating state, that’s letting them in. And the abundance of magical improvements to the building Dr. Strange emailed Stark two days ago.

Natasha resolves to up her game as well.

There will be no blindsiding this time.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

Banner has already introduced himself to the twins by the time they enter. Professor Xavier sits a few feet away, hands folded. Natasha firms her expression into near nothingness before she stops two feet from the group. Clint ignores all social boundaries and flops on the couch. Wanda gives him only a cursory once over, but Pietro fixates on him.

Natasha wonders if it’s a male alpha thing, or fear of retribution.

Or both.

“Ah, Agent Romanoff,” Professor Xavier says, waving her closer. “Miss Maximoff was just telling me she’s ready to start tonight.”

“Really?” Natasha rolls her shoulders back. “You think that’s best? Shouldn’t you get to know Loki first? Apologize? Then pick his brain?”

Wanda tilts her head to the side. “The professor told me it was urgent. So, we came. Now you wish us to delay?”

“Of course not.” Natasha smirks. “But he will remember it was you who handed him to HYDRA. He won’t trust you.”

“I do not expect him to.”

“Then why tonight?”

Wanda attempts a careless, devil-may-care shrug. It fails. She still looks guilty. “I can feel his power humming the air. It is tight, scared, and dangerous.”

“You think he’ll hurt us?”

“Perhaps.”

“Professor?” Natasha glances at him.

He massages his temples. “I can feel it, to an extent. You must remember, Agent Romanoff, I am a telepath, but magic means almost nothing to me. I cannot touch it. And there is too much magic attached to Loki’s very being for me to really help.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Wanda demands. “If I am not successful, Loki’s magic will explode from him. It will not level New York. Not physically. It will, however, touch every person in it and warp them. Chaos. No, worse, madness. They will see and feel as he does. How many people do you think will endure that?”

Natasha’s right eye twitches.

Not many.

Wanda must read some of her emotions, for she settles. “Do not question my methods. I have done great wrong. Let me fix it.”

Natasha gives her a curt nod. She’ll go with it, for now.

“Where is Loki?” Wanda asks.

“His room,” Banner replies. “Do you want to go there? Or should I bring him?”

“Bring him. This will not be pleasant process. We keep his room safe ground. No connection.”

Banner’s eyes loose some of their tension. He’s been worrying over adding new faces since the beginning. Even more so after he learned who they were. Seeing Wanda care about her patient has eased some of those legitimate fears. Natasha, again, wonders if this is intentional, to make them lessen their guard, or real compassion.

Only time will tell.

And subtle tells, which Natasha will be watching out for.

“Would you or your brother like anything to drink, Miss Maximoff?” Professor Xavier asks, wheeling his chair over to the kitchen counter. He pours himself a glass of tap water and drinks it slowly. Wanda doesn’t relax an inch.

“Water, please,” she answers, hands loose at her sides.

“Nothing,” Pietro says a beat later. Most likely making sure the fastest of them can’t be drugged.

Wanda sips her drink while they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Natasha glances at the clock, then the professor. He sighs at her look.

“It appears Loki is in the midst of a rather terrifying flashback at the moment.” He turns to Wanda. “He has been getting them with increasing frequency. His brother fears it might be Thanos trying to reach out still, to take back control. Their father said he thinks this unlikely, but not impossible.”

“Take me to him,” Wanda commands, already marching for the doorway. “If this is legitimate fear, we cannot ignore it.”

Natasha sees a flash of a smug smile cross the Professor’s face.

Ah, so he hoped she’d suggest this. Interesting. Natasha hopes it pans out for them. So far no one can get through to Loki when he’s in these flashbacks, except for Xavier…and even that’s a struggle for the mutant.

The screams and pleas are heard two hallways down. Pietro’s lips tighten into a thin line. Wanda doesn’t express anything. Thor stumbles out as they reach the room. He scans them over, a warrior tensed and ready to defend his own. He stiffens at the two new faces, but relaxes when he sees the Professor.

“It is not as bad as last night,” Thor murmurs. “But I still cannot persuade him to return to reality.”

His large fists tremble.

Outside thunder booms as rain pounds against the windows.

“This is the young woman I told you about,” Xavier gestures to Wanda.

Thor scans her again. “You are the one who aided HYDRA in taking him.”

“Yes.”

“Then know you that not only will this team hunt you, should you prove false, but I and an entire realm will as well. You will not be able to escape justice.”

“I seek only to reverse the harm I have caused.”

Thor’s lip curls up into a sneer. “You think yourself up to this task?”

“Honestly? No. But I will do it anyway.” Wanda straightens. “I am the best at dreamscapes. And I owe it your brother.”

“My brother is a field of traps, my lady.” Thor winces at anther scream. “He will try and fight you. Mentally. Maybe more so if he recognizes you.”

“I am prepared for this.”

After a long moment, Thor stands aside. His threatening presence stays, but he allows her access.

Wanda strides in, pauses as she takes in the huddled figure, and then conjures up a wisp of red smoke. A burst of green lashes out at her – Loki’s own natural magic, gone haywire. Wanda calmly absorbs it. Her smoke creeps closer and closer. Loki’s screams increase in volume. Whether because he recognizes the smoke, or because of the flashbacks, is unknown. Regardless, he scuttles backward, hands clawing at the wallpaper, shredding it.

The red smoke reaches him anyway. Curls around him like a blanket; settles on his shoulders. He flinches from it, at first, then his eyes widen. A shaky hand goes up and strokes the smoke once. The panicked essence is still there, but it’s more contained now.

Wanda has her eyes closed. Every so often she jerks, as if dodging something. A mental attack?

But from whom?

Half an hour goes by like this, with Loki drooping more and more, his posture relaxing. Wanda only gets more tense, fatigue hunching her shoulders. On and on it goes, until Loki’s eyes clear of the madness, and he takes a deep breath through the nose.

“Y-you,” he breaths, green smoke increasing.

Wanda jerks again, as if hit. “Yes. I have come to…redeem myself.”

“I suppose I owe you my thanks,” he forces out, pushing up the wall until he’s standing. There are blood marks in shape of claws behind him, blood on his fingernails. A vivid reminder of what happened. The red smoke is still round his body, green sparks intermingling.

“It is not permanent,” Wanda tells him. “I will need more sessions.”

Loki sighs. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Brother!” Thor admonishes.

“Peace,” Loki says, flinching at something. “It seems you and I shall be working together, Lady Maximoff.”

Wanda doesn’t seem very sure how to take that. Probably remember her whole part in this. “You still see shadows?”

“Shadows…yes.” Already Loki’s gaze has dimmed.

Wanda flexes her fingers. “If you are up to it, I will do more now.”

Loki walks to the little eating table and sinks into the straight-backed seat there. He beckons Wanda over to the other chair. She complies, and then gestures Xavier to wheel in.

“I will have need of your powers, Professor,” she says, already conjuring up more of her smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it HAS been a while. Sorry to say married life be busy. So updates might be even longer in coming. 
> 
> Hope you still follow and enjoy this story, regardless. 
> 
> I plan NEVER to "drop" it.


	26. Silent Night

**Last Time on BPoT:**

Half an hour goes by like this, with Loki drooping more and more, his posture relaxing. Wanda only gets more tense, fatigue hunching her shoulders. On and on it goes, until Loki's eyes clear of the madness, and he takes a deep breath through the nose.

"Y-you," he breaths, green smoke increasing.

Wanda jerks again, as if hit. "Yes. I have come to…redeem myself."

"I suppose I owe you my thanks," he forces out, pushing up the wall until he's standing. There are blood marks in shape of claws behind him, blood on his fingernails. A vivid reminder of what happened. The red smoke is still round his body, green sparks intermingling.

"It is not permanent," Wanda tells him. "I will need more sessions."

Loki sighs. "I suppose it was inevitable."

"Brother!" Thor admonishes.

"Peace," Loki says, flinching at something. "It seems you and I shall be working together, Lady Maximoff."

Wanda doesn't seem very sure how to take that. Probably remember her whole part in this. "You still see shadows?"

"Shadows…yes." Already Loki's gaze has dimmed.

Wanda flexes her fingers. "If you are up to it, I will do more now."

Loki walks to the little eating table and sinks into the straight-backed seat there. He beckons Wanda over to the other chair. She complies, and then gestures Xavier to wheel in.

"I will have need of your powers, Professor," she says, already conjuring up more of her smoke.

* * *

**And now:**

It creeps up on him sometimes, this broken madness. Inky fingers of sludge that crawl across his mind, and then grip it with an intensity that is almost all-encompassing. It crushes his thoughts, squeezes his rational, leaves him screaming as he remembers nothing but pain, pain, pain – and Thanos. Always Thanos. As if the memories of the titan are the essence of all his entire being now.

Loki refuses to give the titan that.

Thanos has taken much from him, too much. Loki will not let him achieve total victory.

Never.

Thus, he fights, as only he can, in his mind. Battles the relentless attacks of madness at every hour, waking or dark. The woman, Wanda, helps, but there are times that even she cannot reach him. He recalls all to clearly her aid is his capture by HYDRA, and of her torments she inflicted upon him. How he begged, and she laughed.

 

0/0/0/0

 

_"Did it please you?" he asks, staring out the window from his seat. The snow is falling in light flakes, coating the tall buildings with a sheet of purity. How he wishes it could cover his own soul in such illusioned innocence._

_Wanda stirs in her seat. "What?"_

_He turns his gaze to the young woman sitting across the table. "Did it please you have me at your feet? Begging, pleading, crying for mercy, watching me thus, and then refusing me."_

_Wanda takes a shaky breath in._

_Loki continues, before she can answer. "Did it make your own powerlessness feel more bearable?"_

_Her eyes narrow. "You have no idea what they did to us."_

_"And yet you served them."_

_"As you served Thanos!"_

_"Indeed." Loki chuckles, a wisp of hysteria coloring his vision. "One does a great many things to stop pain. Do they not, Miss Maximoff?"_

_She clenches her hands into fists. Threads of red smoke worm round her fingers._

_"Angry, Miss Maximoff? Feeling the need to strike out at me?"_

_She shakes her head, and uncurls her fingers. "Why do you do this?"_

_"It amuses me."_

_"Hardly," she scoffs. "Why?"_

_"To show you." Loki leans forward. "I may need you now, but never think all is forgiven."_

 

0/0/0/0

 

He is not the only broken one.

Not the only one seeking redemption.

He wonders if either of them will get it.

If he will ever really forgive the girl.

Or if they're both doomed to their shattered spirits.

Not everyone is like Coulson

 

0/0/0/0

 

_The balding man before him sighs. "Is this really necessary?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Very well." The agent seats himself in the couch. "How do we do this?"_

_Loki lowers himself to his knees. His injuries flare at the position, but he forges on. This must be done, now in this lucid moment, if he is ever to go forward. There are too many deaths and horrors on this world to make up for it all, but he can start with this man. He touches his head to the floor – Coulson sucks in a hissed breath –, and straightens himself to his knees again._

_"I have done grievous harm to you, Phil Coulson. Attempted your life, attacked your world, and controlled many of your people. I offer wergild in recompense. My life is yours to own."_

_A beat, then:_

_"Right." Coulson leans on his knees. "You're not going to interrupt me."_

_Loki nods._

_"So, let's start with what's wrong in those sentences, shall we?"_

_"There's –"_

_"No!" Coulson snaps. His features soften. "You promised no interruptions. Offered me wergild. I'm cashing in on some of it."_

_Loki forces himself to nod again._

_"Good." Coulson settles himself more comfortingly on the couch. "Now, let's get the elephant out in the open. You. Were. Controlled. And before, tortured for a year. Men – anyone – will break after long enough. Do anything to stop the horrors."_

_"So, then I am an accessory to murder."_

_Coulson glares at him. "Granted. Now, kindly shut up. I'm not finished. So, you're an accessory to murder. But I think you paid your due for them already. You wouldn't even eat or drink, because you were afraid to displease us! That's more than enough payment. Something we wouldn't even do to our worst criminals. To ask more of you wouldn't just be petty, it'd be vindictive and cruel."_

_Loki opens his mouth, shuts it with a glare, and waits._

_Coulson sighs. "Go on, it's killing you."_

_"So…I am to be acquitted of everything then?" Loki let loose an ugly smile. "You're very generous, speaking for all your world. I imagine there are some who say otherwise."_

_"There are. But they haven't seen you at your worst, or had continuous reports from the Black Widow."_

_"And nothing gets by her."_

_"Rarely." Coulson's brow furrowed. "Look, Loki, you're looking for an easy out. Some way to redeem yourself in your own mind. I've seen it before, dealt with it before. It's hard, I get it. Eats you up inside, when you're not screaming and waiting for Thanos to pop out of your closet."_

_"You think –"_

_"I know. I told you, I've rode this train, years ago. I'm saying there are ways, but it's not going to be overnight. And you're going to have to accept that some people are just going to up and forgive you. That some are going to want to protect you."_

_"Fools."_

_Coulson shrugs. "Call it what you will."_

_"So," Loki swallows. "You refuse my wergild."_

_"I'm…putting it on hold. You're in no fit condition to do anything. Let's talk again in a year."_

_It keeps a bud of hope flickering in Loki's chest._

 

0/0/0/0

 

Coulson is right, of course.

He's in no condition to aid anyone.

Even now, he can feel the ache of invisible fingers clawing their way up his brain, inch by inch. He takes a shallow breath in and moves his pawn to capture a knight.

"You are preoccupied this evening," Thor says, as he swiftly moves his queen to 'check' Loki's king.

Loki blinks. "It seems I am."

"Is it another attack?"

"A feeling, nothing more."

Thor narrows his blue eyes. "Must you always hide behind that shell?"

Loki sighs, leaning his head back against his chair. "No."

"Do you think I will run, brother, if you rely on me too much? Have I damaged our ties so thoroughly?"

Loki studies his interlaced fingers. They twitch as the frenzied panic stabs at his core, his body sure punishment will come soon. "Not so damaged."

They sit like this for many minutes – two brothers ruminating on a past filled with hurt, and laughter, and growing distance. Loki chuckles.

"What a sad pair we make."

"Aye," Thor smiles sadly. "But I would rather share this moment with you, than any adventure."

"No dragons to slay?"

"You could always bring forth your helmet, and I could put it to rest at last."

Loki glares. "And yours?"

"It is a symbol."

"Oh yes, feathers do so show the people your might and honor."

"And your cow?"

"I thought it was a dragon," Loki gives a tiny smirk.

"Thus, I should vanquish it, once and for all. Come, let us smite the ugly beast together."

"Jarvis," Loki says, without taking his eyes from Thor.

" ** _Yes sir?_** "

"Would you kindly cut the video while I smother my brother?"

" ** _Of course, sir._** "

Thor gapes up at the general direction of Jarvis' feed.

Loki grins sharply. "He likes me best."

"You always did have the best allies."

"Perhaps." Loki gives a genuine smile this time. "I did have you."

"Forever, brother."

Loki tips his king over. "You win again."

"You're giving up?"

"Against such persistence, yes."

"Luck."

"Practice." Loki stands and stretches. "But now it is time for us to retire."

"So, you _are_ having an attack."

Loki scowls. "There was once a time that I was the wiser of us."

Thor slides out of his own chair and crosses over until they are side by side. "Will you not let me stay to aid you? Perhaps, together, we can fight it back."

"Postpone it, you mean."

"Brother, please! Enough of this melancholy." Thor reaches slowly and gently grabs the back of his neck. He pulls Loki to him so that their foreheads touch. "Let me protect you."

"So persistent."

"For my brother's safety? Always, and forever."

"It might be a bad one," Loki warns. "I cannot tell for certain, this early, but…"

"Then all the more reason for me to be here. I would not have you suffer this alone."

' _As you did before_ ' is left unsaid, though both of them acknowledge it.

Thor tightens his grip. "Loki…"

"Oh, all right, you brute. Stay if you wish." It comes out harsher than Loki wants. He sucks in a breath as a black cloud descends upon his mind. He struggles against its seductive powers. "Tell...tell me a story."

Thor settles them both on Loki's couch, knees just touching. "There was once a young trickster."

"Really, Thor –"

"He lived in a golden city," Thor presses on, "and was said to even walk the stars. Though the nobles grew jealous of his influence over the heir t the kingdom, yet the common people loved him."

"Fools."

"Wisdom." Thor clasps Loki's wrist as another attack twitches through him. "They saw the honor in the young man. The way he would make sure the future king would not forget his people. They saw hope."

"Thor."

"Hush, I'm telling a story. Now, it happened that one day the heir determined to prove himself by going out to kill a bilgesnipe. Of course, the Trickster came along, for he feared the heir might be reckless."

"Not reckless, young."

"It tis the same."

"Only to some."

"It was only thanks to the Tricksters magics that the heir and his companions escaped with their lives that day. It was the first time the heir had ever seen the true extent of that power. It frightened him."

"But you saw me do magic before."

"Only parlor tricks; changed hair, snakes."

"Do I truly frighten you?" Loki's heart sank.

"No. And even then, it was not really fear, but jealousy. You see, the heir thought that, with such magic, the Trickster would win the people to his side. That the people might begin to think him a better king, than what they had been promised. It was mere folly. A petty feeling of a spoiled child."

"You…you were jealous of me?"

"Yes."

"Are…are you still?"

"No. Humbled."

"…"

"You have such limitless power at your fingertips, Loki. You could rip Asgard asunder, rule the worlds, but yet you choose to stay at _my_ side."

"I don't think you appreciate just how much paperwork would come from ruling the galaxies."

"I'm lucky to still have you, brother."

"You've become maudlin in your old age."

Thor squeezes his wrist. "Appreciative of the gift so freely given me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, but I wanted to give you all something for Christmas. You've been so faithful!


	27. The Calm

**Last Time on BPoT:**

Thor settles them both on Loki's couch, knees just touching. "There was once a young trickster."

"Really, Thor –"

"He lived in a golden city," Thor presses on, "and was said to even walk the stars. Though the nobles grew jealous of his influence over the heir t the kingdom, yet the common people loved him."

"Fools."

"Wisdom." Thor clasps Loki's wrist as another attack twitches through him. "They saw the honor in the young man. The way he would make sure the future king would not forget his people. They saw hope."

"Thor."

"Hush, I'm telling a story. Now, it happened that one day the heir determined to prove himself by going out to kill a bilgesnipe. Of course, the Trickster came along, for he feared the heir might be reckless."

"Not reckless, young."

"It tis the same."

"Only to some."

"It was only thanks to the Tricksters magics that the heir and his companions escaped with their lives that day. It was the first time the heir had ever seen the true extent of that power. It frightened him."

"But you saw me do magic before."

"Only parlor tricks; changed hair, snakes."

"Do I truly frighten you?" Loki's heart sank.

"No. And even then, it was not really fear, but jealousy. You see, the heir thought that, with such magic, the Trickster would win the people to his side. That the people might begin to think him a better king, than what they had been promised. It was mere folly. A petty feeling of a spoiled child."

"You…you were jealous of me?"

"Yes."

"Are…are you still?"

"No. Humbled."

"…"

"You have such limitless power at your fingertips, Loki. You could rip Asgard asunder, rule the worlds, but yet you choose to stay at _my_ side."

"I don't think you appreciate just how much paperwork would come from ruling the galaxies."

"I'm lucky to still have you, brother."

"You've become maudlin in your old age."

Thor squeezes his wrist. "Appreciative of the gifts freely given me."

 

* * *

 

**And now:**

 

As is the way with karma, the world, and life, since everything is going so well with the Avengers, it's time for a good dose of bad. Whether it will be an outside attack – HYDRA is still out there –, some news report – as much as they help clean up after their battles, some people still argue they should do more –, or Loki having a particularly ruthless flashback, no one knows. Yet, they all feel the threat of the hanging sword above their heads. Tony's become even more paranoid with his security updates. Steve's been sketching strategic areas from the roof. Phil's made everyone go through a mandatory physic eval – Tony and Clint had to go twice.

 

0/0/0/0

 

_"It's not your fault," Phil tells her._

_She glares harder as the gun she's cleaning. She has four more after this one, then she'll set them throughout the two upper floors._

_Phil sighs, sitting beside her. "It's not your fault, and you know it."_

_"Do I?"_

_"Yes."_

_She slams the gun down on the table. "It's all our faults. We let ourselves become lax."_

_"No, we didn't."_

_"Yes." She smiles at him, all teeth. "We did. We became so distracted by Loki that we forgot to keep an eye out for intruders."_

_"Who had magic on their side."_

_She picks up the gun again, sliding the magazine in._

_"Natasha, stop." Phil doesn't touch her – he knows better – but he does lay his hand near her arm. She stills. He clears his throat. "I can't have you operating like this. It's unhealthy."_

_"You think my work is compromised?"_

_"Yes."_

_Her body tightens as memories flood her. But Phil's not like her old handlers. He never will be. She glances at him. "How?"_

_"You twitch at every little sound. You've got more guns and knives scattered in this building than I think SHIELD has in its armory."_

_"Then maybe they should update their inventory."_

_"Natasha."_

_"…"_

_"Even Loki mentioned it to me, when he found one of your knives in his room. Wanted to know what we were preparing for." Phil raises an eyebrow. "Mind letting me in?"_

_"You can feel it too. Something's wrong."_

_"Yes, but not enough to warrant this much overkill." Phil sighs. "I think it's time we all did our yearly physic eval."_

_"Now?" She scoffs, then blinks when she sees he's serious. "You want to do that_ now _?!"_

_"Yes. It'll let everyone get things off their chest, scream if they need to."_

_"Everyone?"_

_"Including Thor and Loki." Phil stands. "If they want in on our team, they'll have to do the course too. And Natasha, no skimming on the therapist. I'll know."_

 

0/0/0/0

 

So, yes, Natasha is expecting something to drop into their laps anytime soon. She's prepared for it even. The physic eval does help, but they've been caught off-guard once, she'd rather not have that embarrassment again.

"Tony's put the building on lockdown again," Clint _whines_ as soon as he drops from the vent.

"Deal with it." She flicks her pad to the next page of SHIELD's annual report. There's something wrong here. Her – as Parker calls it – 'Spidey senses are tingling' so to speak. She's not sure what's tweaked them, but perhaps Jarvis will help her hack deeper (he's taken a liking to her).

Clint leans over her shoulder. "Didn't you already read this last week?"

"Yes."

"What stood out?"

"Nothing really."

"Uh-huh."

"Yet." She goes back a page. "Something's not right."

"What?"

"Some of these expenses and missions make no sense. Especially the ones with Ward."

"Isn't that the new kid? The one Phil wants to nab?"

"Yes."

"Who's his handler?"

"Garrett."

Clint stiffens. "There's something off with that man."

"I know. I told Phil."

"How'd he take it?"

"They're old graduates."

Clint blinks. "He ignored you?"

"He's looking into it."

"Good."

Clint kicks back on his chair, which rolls back a bit, and thumps his boots onto the table. She glares at him. He grins back. She sighs. He must be bored, if he's willing to antagonize her. In a way, she understands. Clint is like a kid…puppy…whatever…he doesn't do well cooped up inside for very long. Oh, have it be a cover for a mission and he's fine (the roleplay helps cut down on the boredom), but that's the extent of his good graces.

The boots wiggle beside her elbow.

"Fine," she says, shutting down her pad. "Let's spar."

"Yes!" Clint sprints off for the training room.

Natasha pauses, considers, and pages Steve. The man picks up after the second beep.

"Natasha?"

"Clint's crawling up the walls, literally. The others aren't doing much better. It might be a good idea to train a few hours."

A rustle of paper – he was probably sketching again on the roof – and then: "I'll make the announcement."

She likes that about him. He could, very easily, have Jarvis to tell everyone, but he thinks it too impersonal. He wants to reach out to the team to let them know it matters to _him_ if they join.

"Natasha," Steve's voice says a minute later. "Thor wants to know if it would be a good idea to include Loki."

Her first reaction is to say 'no', but she stops in the hall to mulls it over. It's been two weeks since Wanda told them Loki was no longer a threat to half the city. His mind is stable enough to keep his magic at bay…with hers and Xavier's help. She did hint that it is still killing him, slowly, day by day.

It would be good for Loki to have more social interactions. Make him focus on something other than his dying body.

"Yes," she concludes, "but only for half an hour."

"Right."

She continues to the training room to find Tony and Bruce, surprisingly, already there. They're sitting in a corner, muttering to each other, and stretching. Huh, progress. A month ago, you would have to drag Tony to these, or send Phil. A smile skims across Natasha's lips. Progress indeed.

She can't see Clint, but she knows he's in the rafters somewhere.

Phil strolls in not soon after, migrating to her. "I set a few eyes on Garrett."

"He'll know."

"Undoubtedly."

Natasha stretches her arms. "We can't afford to have him go underground."

"You really think it's that bad."

"I have the same feeling I had in Budapest."

Phil takes a deep breathe through his nose. "Right. I'll put Stark on Garrett too."

"It's worth the crowing he'll do."

Phil grins, and then sits on the floor, reaching for his toes. His rehabilitation is going well, though Bruce cautions against too much strain just yet, which means no missions (other than monitoring from the tower or helicarrier).

Steve enters with Thor and Loki, the latter's hands twitching. So, a semi bad day. She fights down a sigh. It's to be expected. And, all told, he is doing much better since Wanda and Pietro came. Speaking of which…

"The twins not coming?" she asks Phil.

"Not today. Something about a feeling and headaches."

Then it's not just her.

Thor and Loki jog around the room, warming up. She catches snippets of their conversation as they pass her.

"…not so bad," Loki says.

"Indeed," Thor answers, managing to sound unconvinced and supportive at the same time. "Shall I inform Mother of such?"

Loki tries to trip him up.

Thor laughs and skips out of the way.

Not many people realize just how limber and quick Thor really is. They see muscle, height, and blond hair, and immediately think 'dumb jock'. A mistake many of their enemies have lived to regret. Oh, he's no Loki – she has trouble keeping up with that quick wit and mind on his good days – but he's not stupid, not by any stretch of the imagination. Together, Thor and Loki are an unyielding force of nature.

Loki, the shadows and smooth words; Thor, the fire and charm.

It's good they have each other.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

"Ugh!" Tony groans as they file in two hours later. "I smell like good BO and sneakers."

"Good BO?" Clint prompts, grabbing a cold drink from the fridge.

Tony smirks. "As if my BO could be anything, but."

Clint rolls his eyes, while Bruce just snorts.

Natasha punches Tony, just to keep him humble.

"Ow! What was that for? I call abuse!"

Loki peers over his book at them from his spot on the couch. Green eyes blink slowly several times before he hides behind the pages again.

Thor is nowhere to be seen. Odd. He's usually with his younger brother. Something must be up. Natasha snags two ice teas, weaves her way between Clint and Phil, and nudges Loki over with her foot, so she can sit too. The alien pulls his long legs in, curling up like a kid.

She tunes out the rest of the noise as she hands him a tea bottle. "Are you feeling bad?"

He nods.

"Is it your head or bones?"

"Head."

"Flashback?"

"Two. But not severe. I kept my surroundings for the most part." He sips his drink. "Thor helped."

"Good." Natasha cracks open her drink. "Where is he?"

"Calling mother." Loki turns a page. "He's worried."

She lets the slightly sour taste of green tea slither down her throat. "He's your brother."

"Yes."

"It's Game Night," she tells him. "You up for it?"

"If only to beat Phil at chess."

She snorts. "No one beats Phil at chess. Ever."

"I will."

She sends him a sympathetic smile.

"Cynic." He mock snarls at her, before turning back to his book.

She laughs.

 

        The invisible sword above them wobbles precariously.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, it's more a filler chapter than anything else. I'm sorry for that. But it's been so long since I updated, I wanted to give you something. Plus, we needed a small breather.
> 
> Review? Tell me you don't hate me.


	28. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Last Time on BPoT:**

Loki peers over his book at them from his spot on the couch. Thor is nowhere to be seen. Odd. Green eyes blink slowly several times before he hides behind the pages again. Natasha snags two ice teas, weaves her way between Clint and Phil, and nudges Loki over with her foot, so she can sit too. The alien pulls his long legs in, curling up like a kid.

She tunes out the rest of the noise as she hands him a tea bottle. “Bad?”

He nods.

“Is it your head or bones?”

“Head.”

“Flashback?”

“Two. But not severe. I kept my surroundings for the most part.” He sips his drink. “Thor helped.”

“Good.” Natasha cracks open her drink.  “Where is he?”

“Calling mother.” Loki turns a page. “He’s worried.”

She lets the slightly sour taste of green tea slither down her throat. “He’s your brother.”

“Yes.”

“Game night,” she tells him. “You up for it?”

“If only to beat Phil at chess.”

She snorts. “No one beats Phil at chess. Ever.”

“I will.”

She sends him a sympathetic smile.

“Cynic.” He mock snarls at her, before turning back to his book.

She laughs.

The invisible sword above them wobbles precariously.

 

  **And Now:**

 

It takes all Odin’s strength not to melt the gilded courtroom, to not call upon some ancient magic and smite those before him. He wrestles with the desire to scream and rale at these nobles who _dare_ to demean his son, Loki, who think they can _demand_ more payment from his youngest. They sit round the circular table, smug in their confidence that Odin will soon see _their_ point of view.

“It is not that we doubt your wisdom, All-Father,” Kari says again, playing with his bejeweled fingers.

Odin almost snorts.

Oh, how they pretend to grovel before him.

_We don’t doubt you, Oh King Most Powerful, they say. (Then why do they continue to argue this?)_

_We don’t wish to insert ourselves into judgement already passed. (Lies, they’ve been trying to ‘help’ him make decisions for weeks now)_

_Oh no, no. We only worry at the lenient comfort afforded to Loki. (As if they wouldn’t beg for such, if it were they on trial)_

_Surely, they whine, Loki will manipulate the mortals with his quick tongue, convince them to raze Asgard to the ground._

Odin hides a smirk. Loki wouldn’t need to say anything. The nobles would convince the humans to attack all by themselves – which would be a headache in and of itself.

“We think only for the good of Asgard, my king,” Thelmsa, daughter of Gad, smiles. Her red sleeve falls a bit lower on her cream arm as she angles herself closer to Odin. He feels bile try to erupt from his throat. As if he would ever think of betraying his wife for such a harlot, for _any_ woman! This wench holds not a flicker of light to his beloved.

“Indeed,” Kari is quick to agree Thelmsa. “Loki is dangerous to those untrained to watch for his lies. The mortals are…ill equipped for holding him.”

Stupid, weak, below us, are the adjectives Odin is sure the man wants to use.

“Can we allow such a mistake to last?” another noble murmurs.

“You have been too kind to the Trickster for too long, my king,” Thelmsa says, insists really.

“Indeed, perhaps another –”

“Enough!” Tyr snaps, standing, his chair almost falling over. The general glares at the Asgardians round the table. “You forget yourselves.”

“We – ”

“I said, enough!” Tyr snarls. “You think your king has not thought of these things? That he cares more for Loki than for Asgard? You think him unfit to rule?”

“No!” Kari’s eyes widen at the most serious accusation. “We, of course, defer to the wisdom of the All-Father.”

There is, however, too little respect in his tone, and too much playact. These nobles have become much confident in their position. It is, perhaps, time to rectify that. Weed out the old court and replace it with better, more learned men and women. But first…

Odin rises slowly, all eyes riveted to his every motion. “I have indulged you for many days now, in deference to your parents’ old ties to this court. I have listened to children whine and snivel at a missed act of vengeance.”

“All-Father…!”

“Silence!” Odin slams Gungnir against the cold floor. A wave of magic washes across the room. “You seek revenge for the many times my son has embarrassed or caught you.”

Not one of them denies it.

Good, Odin is tired of the blatant falsehoods.

“ _I_ have decided Loki’s punishment. _I_ have passed it as judgement. It has been written in the scrolls for all time. It will _not_ be revoked.” Odin locks his gaze on each of them for a moment. “Any more questions about this will be treated as treason, for I cannot see it as anything else. Why else would you continue to go against my decree, if not because you think yourselves better fit to rule Asgard?”

Thelmsa opens her mouth, but shuts it quickly.

Odin raises Gungnir again. “We have a mad titan roving the universes. He seeks Asgard. He will find it soon. We would best spend our time to prepare, so he will find us ready for him.”

The nobles murmur in quiet agreement.

“This meeting is finished,” Odin decrees, and leaves them to find their own way home. The guards will direct them out, because he has dealt with them for as long as he can. By all the stars! He hates diplomacy sometimes. He misses the olden days when a sword and a quick skirmish could end an argument before it began. Odin sighs. But then, that is what led to Hela and her madness, is it not?

So much blood, wasted, lost, because he was too quick to war against those who disagreed with him.

Thank the heavens, Frigga married him. His angel in armor saved more than the Nine Realms, she drew his soul back for the eternal pits of hell.

“My king,” Tyr says, suddenly at his side.

Odin pauses. “What is it, my old friend?”

“I fear not all the nobles will let this go so easily.”

“You think them foolish enough to start an insurrection?” Odin prays not. The last thing they need is a civil war, not when Thanos is so close to attacking.

Tyr shakes his head. “No. They will not risk Asgard so.”

“You think they will attack my son.”

“Yes.” Tyr leans against the wall. “Lorelei comes to mind. She has not been seen for many years now, and has a deep grudge against Loki. For those desperate enough, she can be found through the dark magics.”

“I cannot spare troops to send to Earth.” Odin feels the weight of kingship fall heavier on his shoulders. How he wishes he could send thousands of soldiers to protect his son. But he cannot, and Loki will understand that. It will hurt him, Odin has no doubt, but Loki has always known the sacrifices a king makes, even of his loved ones.

“I do not say to send troops, my king. A few well-trained men and women would do nicely. I highly suggest a magic user as well.”

Odin ponders this. “It will spark more ill-will.”

Tyr snorts “To send people to protect their heir to the throne? Hardly.”

Odin laughs. “As always, you are cleverer than me in subterfuge.”

“I try, my king.”

Odin shakes his head. Try, indeed. Tyr has ever been by Odin’s side, through the dark times as well as the lighter ones. It does Odin’s heart good to see his sons have such a stanch protector. There were times he began to doubt it, thought perhaps the general might be swayed by the nobles, but Tyr proved himself many a time.

 

0/0/0/0

 

_The blood still trails to the doorway.  The servants work quickly to rid the hallway of the gruesome evidence, but the constant activity of healers going in and out disrupt the cleaning. Odin hesitates to step over the congealed splatters – so much, how is his boy still alive after losing so much! – before entering the healing room. General Tyr is beside Frigga, murmuring soft somethings to her. His wife’s eyes blaze with a Valkyrie’s fury. Thor…is nowhere to be seen. Odin prays his eldest is not involved in this._

_And Loki…his youngest, his clever Loki, is laid on a bed. Above him, gold and blue holograms move and fluctuate as the healers work to save his life. Many bones and muscles are broken and ripped, but, worse, blood pours out of his pores like waterfalls. Puddles grow on the floor surrounding the table. It stains the bottoms of the healers’ dresses and robes. Odin resists the urge to go over and stroke his boy’s hair, to comfort and reassure Loki that he is not alone._

_By all the Realms, Loki isn’t even out of his middle years, not even considered a man yet!_

_“General,” Odin commands._

_Tyr removes himself from Frigga’s side, and kneels on one knee before Odin. “My king.”_

_“Rise, my general. Report this foul deed.”_

_Tyr stands. “The enchantress, Lorelei. She attacked the princes while we were on a mock patrol. She segregated them from the rest of the group, wove her magic to befuddle our minds.”_

_“You attacked them,” Odin says. It is to be expected. Lorelei has quite a few tricks in her arsenal, but her most prominent is the use of bespelling men to do her every wish._

_“We did.” Sorrow fills Tyr’s face. “I tried, my king. I tried to resist her. I knew what she wanted. But…”_

_Odin lays a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I do not blame you.”_

_Tyr does not shake off the forgiving grip, but his glare does deepen. “Loki was finally able to defeat her spell on us, but she wove something else before she left. It is what is causing…this.”_

_Tyr waves at all the blood._

_“What spell did she use?” Odin asks._

_“We are not sure, my king,” a greying healer answers for Tyr. “But we are close.”_

_Odin nods to him, before focusing back on Tyr. He stifles the hot anger that wishes to burst out. Tyr is not the one at fault here. Lashing out at him will do no good. “Has she been captured?”_

_“Yes. Your sons did well, my king. They fought bravely. Loki kept Thor safe, even at the risk of his own health. That last spell was aimed for Thor.”_

_As Loki ever does, he protects his older brother. Odin’s pride for his boy swells, even as he worries over the lack of self-preservation. It’s no wonder Thor is not here. The guilt, the rage…Thor is most likely in the training grounds, beating some poor, unfortunate post of wood into splinters._

_“Come,” Odin demands. “We shall get our answers from her.”_

0/0/0/0

 

Yes, Tyr has proven himself loyal to the family. Were the situation with Thanos not so dire, Odin might send Tyr with the party to Earth. The old general has a way with his youngest that not many do.

“Who would you suggest for such an undertaking?” Odin asks.

Tyr’s brow wrinkles in thought. “Hogan and Volstagg to start. Familiar faces for both your sons.”

“But not the Lady Siff or Sir Fandral?”

“Nay. I have need of Siff for the female side of our army. She encourages them. And besides…” Here Tyr gives a rueful chuckle. “I had thought to try her with the Valkyrie.”

“They have long forsaken Asgard.”

“Not without just cause.”

Odin sighs. “No, not without just cause. We have wronged them most terribly. You think Lady Siff will be enough to convince them to aid us?”

“Us? No. But Asgard’s people? She might.”

Odin can only hope so. “What of Fandral?”

“He is…too young, my king, too self-absorbed. I would rather keep him close, train him more, else he will die in the first wave from Thanos.”

Odin nods. “Very well. Who else shall we send? I have a mind to send the Lady Eira. She is a most proficient healer, and my wife has told me she is advanced in the art of magic as well.”

“I agree. Garth and Eske would be a good set to add as well,” Tyr says.

“Very well then. Gather them and meet me in my private quarters in one hour’s time. I shall give my blessing for their task.”

One hour is, indeed, not long to prepare, but Odin fears to wait til the morrow. For Tyr to even warn him means that the nobles will not wait long. And, should they find Lorelei, it will be even sooner.

Odin leaves Tyr to his duty.

The tingle of long forgotten magic dances on the breezes as he nears his wife’s chambers. He slows, allowing the soothing touch to mellow his irritation, to smooth the worries Thanos has brought up. He knocks on the door.

“Come, my beloved,” Frigga calls.

He enters, thankful to find her alone. “My queen.”

“Loki is not out of danger,” she tells him.

Odin sinks into a chair, propping Gungnir beside him on the wall. “I presumed as much.”

“He is surrounded by friends.” Frigga weaves the strands of her banner through her loom, deft fingers never missing a thread.

“And will they sing his death song when he passes?” Odin whispers.

For months now, he has born the guilt of placing this curse on his son. In what was meant to be a kindness, Odin stripped Loki of his Asgardian and Jotun forms. He thought to make Loki vulnerable enough to elicit pity from his once enemies. Only after, when he sought out Heimdall, did Odin realize the plague he’d brought down on his son instead. The slow, agonizing death he’d doomed Loki to bear.  

As soon he’d found out, Odin had readied himself to go to Loki, to reverse his spell, to save his son. Frigga stopped him. His love, his heart, told him that to do so would bring Asgard to ruin. The nobles would rebel at such an obvious gesture of favoritism. The threads revealed Thanos attaining Asgard because of it. She warned him to leave Loki’s recovery or death to others, to let loom weave its path. But…

“Do you still persist that I can do naught to aid him?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“It is hard, to sit by and know that I could end his sufferings with a few words, were I at his side.”

“I know,” Frigga stops her loom’s rhythmic march. “Think you it does not pain me as well?”

“Nay, I know it does.” Odin takes her chilled hand in his larger one. “Has the loom shown anything more to tell us of his fate?”

“No. It remains silent on this.”

Of course, it does.

“And Thanos?” he asks.

“He reaches the border of the Realms now. Soon, his touch will be felt by all.”

“I must ready our patrols then.”

Frigga squeezes his hand gently. “A letter, sent with group bound for Earth would not be amiss, my husband. If you cannot go to Loki, at least send him word of your love.”

Odin kisses the back of her hand. Then he lets go, grabs Gungnir, and departs without another word. He will leave Frigga to her work, and attend to his own.


	29. Double, Double, Toil, and Trouble

**Last Time On BPoT:**

  _Odin takes her chilled hand in his larger one. "Has the loom shown anything more to tell us of his fate?"_

_"No. It remains silent on this."_

_Of course, it does._

_"And Thanos?" he asks._

_"He reaches the border of the Realms now. Soon, his touch will be felt by all."_

_"I must ready our patrols then."_

_Frigga squeezes his hand gently. "A letter, sent with the group bound for Earth would not be amiss, my husband. If you cannot go to Loki, at least send him word of your love."_

_Odin kisses the back of her hand. Then he lets go, grabs Gungnir, and departs without another word. He will leave Frigga to her work, and attend to his own._

* * *

**And Now:**

It's been a year. Over a year, in fact, and Clint is _still_ barred from physically seeing Loki! Like actively blocked by Tasha's stern presence, Jarvis monitors, and Bruce/Hulk. It's beyond unreasonable!

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_"Late night stroll?" Nat asks him as she suddenly appears at Clint's side. Clint stiffens, resisting the urge to lash out at the unexpected presence. Nat knows he hates when she does it, so the fact that she is means she's ticked at him. Again._

_Clint side-eyes her. Her eyebrow rises. He shrugs and smiles. "You know, me."_

_"I do." She glances down at the bow in his hand, and then at Loki's bedroom door._

_Clint's grip on his weapon tightens. "I just came off a scouting trip. I was going to leave it outside."_

_"I know."_

_"Nat…" Clint looks her full in the eyes. "I need this."_

_"He's not ready."_

_"It's been over a year!" Clint hisses, stepping forward._

_"Are we measuring now? Is a year enough time to recover from trauma?"_

_"You know I didn't mean it like that."_

_"No?"_

_Clint's shaking down to his boots at this point. "I didn't off him at that Hydra base, did I? Didn't put the fear of Clint in him, or whatever it is you all think I'm going to do. I was a good, little agent. Doesn't that prove anything?"_

_Nat remains unmoved by Loki's bedroom door. "You can put aside your emotions for the mission."_

_"But this is too personal, that it?"_

_Her silence is answer enough._

_"Fine." Clint whirls around. He feels the brush of Nat's fingertips on his shoulder, and ducks them. He glares back at her. "Don't."_

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

Clint likes to think he's a pretty patient guy, but he's reached his limit now.

Ergo, why he's stalking down the empty tower's hallways. The team's out fighting the newest baddie of the month. But, of course, Clint just had to go and twist his ankle last night. How, you ask? How! Because the world hates him, that's how/why.

And, so, he's grounded for a few days – he's not stupid enough to fight the orders. Oh, he'll exercise and scout round the tower more than Phil will like, but even Clint knows when a few days rest will get him more than rebellion.

But this also gives him plenty of time to realize he's _still not trusted_ by anyone, not with Loki, at least.

Never mind that the alien is pretty well stable right now – minus some majorly freakish flashbacks. Let's forget that Clint would really like to resolve things between the two of them. Oh, and who cares about the fact that Loki's probably going to croak soon – so Clint doesn't really have that much time to talk to him anyway. Nope, let's just wag our fingers and shake our heads, and say 'bad, Clint, you're too impatient'.

Clint grinds his teeth.

What do they know?

Were _they_ the one being brainwashed?

Sometimes, that feeling of something wrong crawling in his head overwhelms him. Not that he'd tell them that. They'd bench him faster than Thor goes for ale.

Did _they_ have to kill some of their own friends and colleagues?

He remembers every strike, every blow, every last gasp. Agent Thomas' look of betrayal when he shoots him in the head, Agent Diana's sadness as his knife slits her throat, and Agent Heide's anger when he kicks her off the side of the Helicarrier; those will probably always haunt him, not to mention all the rest of the deaths too.

Do the _other_ Avengers have nightmares about being controlled?

Clint shuts down that thought. Fast. Takes a deep breath in through his nose, and exhales out his mouth. Does it several times. Right. He needs to get up higher. He always thinks better in his 'nest spots'.

A small grin grows.

Clint knows just the place to go.

He pulls up into a vent and army crawls his way up four levels.

Poking his head out, Clint scans the ground below. Good. No one's here. Not that they'd really think to look up at the rafters in the gym, but…Clint would rather not risk it. He really needs some quiet time to think things out, figure out a way to convince Phil he's okay to see Loki.

Clint swing softly down onto the highest, metal rafter.

Only to freeze.

Loki's no more than one rafter below him. The alien's dressed in some grey sweats and red t-shirt (that whole thing about him only wearing green is a total lie, Clint found out). Loki's hair is tied up in a high ponytail, which most would think would be girly, but somehow manages to come off as samurai-ish. Clint glares at him.

Of course, Loki has to decide on the _one day_ Clint wants his favorite spot, to just take it.

Typical.

Clint debates leaving. He is under orders, after all, to avoid contact. Clint grins wide. Since when has he ever listened to orders, especially if he knows they're unfair or wrong? Clint nods. Exactly. Never.

He touches down on Loki's rafter.

The alien doesn't move, not even a twitch.

Clint wonders if that means he's afraid. Trying to pretend to not notice him, so that he, Loki, can escape quicker. The man's tensed enough for it to be true.

"Hey," Clint says, and is proud of how calm it comes out.

No answer.

Well, that's just rude.

"Up for a talk?" he asks. Let it never be said he can't be the bigger man. He knows a chance when he sees one.

But Loki still doesn't answer, or move.

Clint frowns. Is the guy being rude, or is something up?

He inches forward.

And immediately takes in how fast Loki is breath, how raspy he sounds, how his eyes are unfocused on some spot across the roof.

Oh boy…flashback.

And he without a Thor around to help.

Clint reaches into his vest pocket, pulls out the little ear piece, and calls the one person he knows who might be able to help.

"I'm a little busy, Agent Barton," Phil's voice scratches through the ear piece. Clint winces at the name – Phil uses it only when he's upset at an interruption, or some disrespect gone on too long. Clint forges on.

"Loki's having a flashback. Don't think it's super bad, but he's totally out of it."

Silence.

Then: "Did you find him like this?"

Translation, did you cause this to happen?

"Was just crawling through the vents now, and saw him." Clint watches as a shudder ripples down Loki's frame. The pale face pinches tight. "Coulson, I think it might be trying to get worse."

"Thor can't be reached."

"I figured. What do I do?"

"Don't touch him."

"No duh."

"Clint," Phil warns firmly.

"Yes, sir." Clint shifts his weight to his left. "Should I attempt any verbal contact?"

Something bangs on the other end. "I'll be there in ten. Keep up your surveillance. Alert me to any changes."

"Will do. We're in the gym." Clint turns off the ear piece, though he keeps it in his ear, just in case things hit the fan.

A tiny sob escapes Loki, a couple shivers follow, and then, all at once, Clint has two green eyes staring him down. They're clear now. Haunted, yes, but focused. Oh boy are they focused.

"Agent Barton," Loki says.

"So, they tell me."

Loki looks back to his favored spot across the roof. "So cavalier to one who dismantled your mind."

A bait. Raw, wriggling, and oh so tempting to bite. Clint swings his legs on either side of the rafter. Doesn't miss how Loki's eyes tight at edges. Yep, lots of fear over on that side of the rafter.

"I guess you could say I am," Clint acknowledges. "Had plenty of time to compartmentalize stuff."

"A useful trait."

"Yeah." Clint itches to play with one of his vest's hidden knives, anything to keep his hands busy, but he knows it'll only exacerbate the situation. Guy doesn't need to see him with a weapon in hand. Instead, Clint grabs hold of a beam attached to the rafter. "You up for a chat?"

Loki's eyebrow twitches. "Yes."

Clint's not buying it, but he'll give Loki an out, for now. "Cool."

A few seconds pass.

"Probably should introduce myself," Clint says. "Hawkeye."

He's not quite ready for a first named basis yet.

Loki dips his head a bit, like he's imitating some sort of bow…which, for all Clint knows, he _could_ be. "Loki Odinson, Laufeyson."

"What do you remember?" somehow shoots out of Clint's mouth next. Great. That wasn't how he wanted to lead with in his first ever _real_ conversation with Loki.

"Many things," Loki says, still looking forward. "And then nothing. I remember my childhood as if it were happening now. I remember my…fall. I remember all of your teammates help in my recovery."

"But?"

"I cannot recall my attack on your world." Loki's eyes narrow. "No matter what spell I use, I am refused access."

Huh.

Interesting.

Clint didn't know magic could _refuse_ to obey you. Kinda creepy, actually. Makes magic seem alive. Clint represses a shudder. "That's…"

Clint trails off. Anything he says will sound condescending. So…yeah. This sucks. So, he sticks to something a little safer in topic. "I didn't know magic could refuse to be used."

For a few seconds, almost a minute, it seems as if Loki's not going to answer. Clint starts to wonder if he's gone into yet another flashback.

"It is alive, and yet not so." Loki says, taking in a shallow breath. "It vibrates through the very veins of time and space. It feeds off of it. And sometimes…sometimes it allows itself to be courted by a select few."

"Soooo…it has favorites?"

"In a manner of speaking." Loki's long fingers spasm. "It might be more accurate to say it has playthings."

Okay, yeah, that right there is just freaky. Clint's getting all kinds of horror movie vibes right now. Like Carry or Exorcist type vibes. His grip on the rafter beam tightens. "That's…gotta be honest, man, that's freaky."

"Indeed," Loki says. "Those who dare to look into its depths are forever changed. Depending on its mode, they can be driven insane."

"That what happened to you? You look too long?"

"Yes…and no." Loki blinks. "I have dipped into its waters for centuries, competing in its game for dominance. I was one of the best in all the realms, until…"

Clint's willing to bet a thousand dollars that Thanos is the 'until' part. Titan probably made Loki's magic twist the Jotun into the wreck they have here. No wonder not many humans have magical abilities. If what Loki is saying can be trusted…yeah, humans are much better off without the stuff.

Clint starts to say something, but suddenly a huge, blue and green cloud booms into existence in midair. Clint's pushed off the rafter, and its only his many years of training that saves him when he lands. He glances up. Loki's still sitting on the rafter. Figures. Of course, Jotun bodies are denser or whatever.

From the writhing cloud a gorgeous woman steps out. Her red hair plays round her flawless face like slithering snakes. How, Clint's not sure, there's not even a hint of a breeze in the room. A cruel smile grows on her lips.

"Loki, my dearest, it's been too long."

Great!

Just great!

More people who hate or wanna use the guy.

The universe hates them.

"Amora," Loki says flatly.

"Now, now, no need for that tone." Amora bats her eyelashes. "I'm here to save you."

"I think not," Loki says.

"And why's that, my dearest? Have I given you reason to think this?"

"Always."

"Well," Amora chuckles. "That is true."

"I take it the nobles are displeased."

Amora preens. "And this is why you are my favorite companion."

Clint's had enough. He discretely sends Phil a distress signal, before pulling out a knife. "I don't know who you are, lady, but Loki's not going anywhere with you."

She glances down at him. "How quaint, you still have loyal thralls."

Ok, that's it, she's so going down. Clint is nobody's thrall, or servant, or their anything. He is his own man, thank you very much.

Amora steps daintily down through the air. "I think…yes…It will be advantageous."

Clint backs up.

She waves a hand and then…Clint shakes his head as something…No! Clint panics. Not again. It's different, but Clint can tell something's trying to take over his mind again. No, no, no, no! Not again. No! he can't…go…

She's gorgeous, his angel in green.

Clint melts at her smile.

"Help me with him, beloved," she asks, pointing to Loki.

"Of course, ma'am."

"Let him go, Amora," Loki demands.

Clint throws a knife at the alien. It shimmers through an illusion. The real Loki appears inches from him, grabs his wrists and twists them up behind him back. Amora giggles.

"No," she says. "I rather like him."

"Now, Amora."

"Only if you promise to come with me."

"…very well."

Amora dances over to Loki and kisses him on the cheek. A green mist wafts between them, and Loki releases Clint. The archer ribs his wrists.

"You…promised…" Loki struggles.

Amora smiles and kisses him again. "I lied."

Loki blinks as more green mist crawls into his pores. His tense posture loosens.

"Come," Amora says. "we have much to accomplish."

Clint follows her through the blue cloud, Loki close at his heels.


End file.
